The Price of Falling
by Rast
Summary: Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up. When the only thing you've ever really wanted is right there for the taking…why wouldn't you take it? Kataang.
1. Prologue: Revelation

Music notes: First part was written to Prelude 12/21 by AFI, which got stuck in my head so badly after I first heard it that I went to sleep with it in there and woke up with it in there for three damn days. The rest of it was written to ATLA's soundtrack, which is just awesome, and Dissolved Girl by Massive Attack, which will change your life. No kidding. Go listen.

* * *

Prologue: Revelation

* * *

Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, but rather what you are expected to give—which is everything.  
_- Author Unknown_

_

* * *

_

He falls.

He's the last hope this world has for peace. She's believed in him for so long, since she was just a little child sitting around the fire-circle in the howling cold of winter, hugging her knees to her chest while the voices of the elders rolled over the wind, spinning out the tale of the Avatar, telling of the last Airbender, keeping hope alive in the darkness of a winter that's lasted a hundred years, igniting a fire in the heart of a young Waterbender that will become her unquestioned reason for being. This belief that will shape her world.

The light goes out, and he falls. Her heart is a dead weight in her chest.

Has he ever fallen before? How can an Airbender fall? Everyone knows, they're born with wings.

She's not even thinking, now. There's nothing left inside of her to think with. Her heart is falling with him, and if he shatters on the earth then she will cease to exist. The power swells inside her, high tide riding on desperation.

He falls, but she's always been there to catch him.

A solid weight in her arms. Unthinking. Staring down at the bloody mess of him, the charred smell of his flesh strong and heavy in the lifeless air that she cannot breathe. His name caught in her heart, whispered. Fingers clench, trembling, his image blurs. She has to get him out of this tomb, out of this stale and stinking place and into the air. There is shouting and fighting, fire flashing red and blue in the green crystal light. There is blood pouring out of him.

He isn't breathing, and she cannot bring herself to check for a heartbeat because if there isn't one…

Under the stars, the others crowd around her. Heads shaking denial of the reality she has brought them. Sokka drops his head, shudders, and then moves to relieve her of her burden.

_No._

Fingers curl around him, a sharp step backward, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. She will never let him go. It might not be too late for a miracle. She has never stopped believing in him, and now isn't the time for that kind of weakness.

In the living air she holds him, trembling now with the emptiness inside of her. Frozen.

_(If this doesn't work--)_

No. She will not even think it, she _cannot_. The fear is flooding her, but she will not give in.

_The first step to being a bender is letting go of your fear._

His body is slack and heavy against her, his blood is soaking into her dress, pouring out of him even though she's been fighting to stop the flow of it since he landed in her arms. The smell of blood is stronger than the burned smell now, too strong for even the night wind to blow away. Her hands are slimy with it, and it smears on her neck as she pulls out the vial, pours the prayer into her palm.

_Please._

In the light of the full moon, praying to the world.

_Please don't let him…_

Silver water flowing through the veins that are still pumping out blood, a crimson flood that slows…stops…

Her arms tighten around his body as if by sheer force of will she can call him back there. The tears are leaking free, despite how tight she's holding on to everything, all the things inside her that are threatening to shatter. Teeth clenched, heart sealed shut to keep all the pain _inside_, to keep from breaking. Everything holding on so hard she's shaking with the force of keeping herself together.

In her arms, he suddenly gasps for breath. His heart stutters, falters, then catches its rhythm.

She pulls back to see those gray eyes looking into hers, smiling at her despite it all. Like nothing has changed, like nothing ever will.

_I never doubted…_

_I know._

_

* * *

_

Later, he is lying in the chamber of her father's ship. She has worked so much power into him, healing him, holding him, binding the spirit to the damaged flesh, that she has so little left for herself she can't walk straight. She makes her way to the deck and vomits into the ocean. One hand clenched over her heart, nails biting into her palm, teeth bared and eyes tightly shut. The tears leak out anyway, an unchecked flow, and the breath hisses through her teeth because she's choking on a scream. Her heart flutters in her chest like a broken bird and her stomach is rolling like the sea.

She's on the edge of hysteria, and she knows it.

This is what it feels like. Coming face to face with your own destiny. This is how it hurts.

_If I'd lost him…_

Oh, but she hadn't even known until she saw him falling. She hadn't _let_ herself know, hadn't _wanted_ to know, and if he'd died and she'd wasted the only time they had she'd have held that bitter regret and self-hatred until she died.

_I love him. I'm in love with him. _

She raises one hand to press over her mouth. Like she can force the thoughts back into the darkness. Knowing it now for the truth, feeling the _rightness_ of it spreading through her like ripples in a pond, changing everything it touched.

When had this happened? Trying to use the perfect clarity of hindsight, searching back through her memories, trying in vain to pinpoint the exact moment she'd fallen for him. And failing, because it hadn't happened in a _moment_. It'd been happening gradually since the day she'd broken him from the iceberg, since the first time those gray eyes had blinked up at her.

Back in the Cave of Two Lovers, she'd _wanted_ to kiss him. She'd wanted to know what his lips would feel like on hers. Before that, Waterbending, using all kinds of excuses to _touch_ him. Knowing what she did and denying it at the same time.

Because she was afraid and confused. This was _Aang_, right? He was her _friend._ He was becoming her best friend, and she really cared about him, but…sisterly, right?

She hadn't felt sisterly about him since…well. Honestly, she'd never felt that way about him. And since she'd kissed him in the cave, since that brief hesitant contact…things had only gotten worse. But she'd been so _stupid_, so _blind_, she'd denied it so well that she hadn't even known herself until—

The image flashed through her. Aang falling, smoke pouring from the _hole_ in his back, the scent of death all around her in the lifeless air…

She leans over the railing with barely enough strength to hold on and is violently sick. Sokka catches her before she falls to the deck, when her knees finally give way. Strong arms closing around her, and she realizes that she's shaking. Her skin is numb, the world is blurry and bright, and she can't stop the tears. She knew it was coming, this slow shattering of self-control. Hysteria.

_I lost him, I lost him, I let him die._

"No, Katara." Her brother's quiet voice, speaking logic through broken words she hadn't realized she'd said aloud. "Aang is alive. It's going to be okay. You didn't let him go. He's not lost."

"It's all my fault, Sokka. _I let him die."_

"Katara, calm down. He's not dead. Aang is alive. I just checked on him. You're tired, you've been doing too much bending. You need to sleep."

Katara knew he was right, but with all this raw knowledge in her she didn't think she could sleep. Closing her eyes, she turned away from him.

"You don't understand. I should have stopped her."

"Katara. Listen to me. Aang is the Avatar. There's no one in the world stronger than him when he's in that state. There's nothing you could have done differently. _Nothing_. You got him out of there and you brought him back to life. That's nothing to be ashamed of. That's so epic no one has ever done it before. You didn't _lose_ him, Katara, you _saved_ him."

Breathing deep, trying to regain control over herself, she lets his words sink into her heart. And then she throws her arms around his neck and holds on so tight he has to peel her off so he can breathe.

Katara scrubbs roughly at her face with her hands, wiping away the tears, and then hugs him more gently. "Sokka, you're the best brother in the world."

She doesn't have to see his face to know he is smiling. "Yeah. I know."

* * *

Aang dreams while Katara heals the ruin of his flesh. She won't let anyone else see him. Not until he's whole again. Sealing the gaping hole in his back, healing skin and growing new tissue and burning away the infection. Her days and nights are spent there, in his body, waging war with his flesh to make it a fit home for the spirit again.

It's the hardest thing Katara has ever done.

Her brother is the only one she permits in. He's there to make sure she doesn't burn herself up in healing the Avatar. He carries her when she's too weak to even stumble across the room to the cot she sleeps on, he makes her eat and he brings her water. He holds her while she cries. Everything she has goes into this healing, body, soul, and spirit, and sometimes there's not much left to hold Katara together anymore, so Sokka does that for her. Strong arms and a soothing voice that she's relied on her whole life.

And then Aang starts to recover. Having fought so long to pull him back from the edge, she doesn't trust it at first. But there's no denying the color in his skin, the solid scar on his back that for so long was an open wound, and even Sokka can see that Aang is going to be okay. She sleeps the whole night through for the first time in a week. Laying on her cot in the darkness, listening to the soft sound of his breathing, feeling the rhythm of it, the _rightness_ of it. Matching her own breath to his, in and out like the tide. She closes her eyes, and finally there is a measure of peace.

After that, Katara allows the others to come in and see him. She retreats to her end of the room, standing guard at a distance with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at each person that enters her domain.

He lies in the middle of the bed on his stomach, because the wound in his back is still a work in progress. There are bandages all over his body because she hasn't had the energy to see to the minor wounds. His breathing is shallow but even, and she keeps her healer's senses tuned to his heartbeat.

Toph runs her little hands all over him, gently, her face growing more and more still. When she's done she sits quietly on the bedside for a moment, then leans down to kiss the top of his head where his hair is all fuzzy. Katara's father moves to sit in her place and Toph heads straight for Katara, enveloping her in a crushing embrace that expresses her fear and gratitude more than any words. When she finally pulls away, there are wet spots on Katara's shirt from her tears.

Hakoda runs his hand over the arrow on Aang's head, then catches her eye. She thinks he is going to speak but something about her expression stops him and he leaves as silently as he came.

Sokka has seen Aang at his worst, but he troops in among the others. None of them come as near as Toph or her father, which suits Katara just fine. She knows he's the Avatar. She knows he belongs to the world. But at this time, in this place, he belongs to _her_. She's the one who pulled him back from death itself, and she is not ready to relinquish her claim.

* * *

"You've really done wonders with him, Katara."

Sokka's managed to lure her out on deck, under the stars. A rare feat indeed. Katara's arms are crossed over the rail and she leans down until her chin is resting on her wrists. The silence stretches between them until Sokka sighs and nudges her with his elbow.

"The correct response is, Thank you, Sokka!"

"Thanks, Sokka."

He snorts and collapses against the railing beside her. "You know, you're awfully hard to cheer up these days. What's got you so down? I thought you'd be happy that he's doing so much better."

Startled, she blinks up at him. "What? I am! It's just…"

Sokka sighs again when it becomes clear she doesn't intend to continue, and she suddenly finds herself wishing he would go away and leave her alone to sort out the mess of her thoughts.

"I've got a lot on my mind, that's all."

Sokka changes position so that his back is pressed against the rail and his elbows are resting on it. She looks up at him and realizes where his gaze has been drawn: the pale crescent moon hanging in the sky. Something inside her softens.

"I know what you're going through, Katara. I know how…complicated everything seems right now. But believe it or not…it _does_ get easier. You'll get through this. You have a lot of strength in you. How many other people are stubborn enough to bring back the dead?"

She snorts, and he smiles down at her briefly before continuing.

"I just want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk, okay? I know you have a lot on your mind. That's pretty obvious. If it will make you feel better, or help you sort things out to have someone to listen, well, what else are brothers for?"

Katara watches the moonlight dancing on the waves, and looks down at her hands. Palms scarred from knitting fish nets, calluses from years of rough work in cold weather. She smells strongly of the herbs from the salve she uses on Aang's back, and she's too tired to lie.

"Sokka, I love him." And she comes to terms with something else, and is too tired to keep from saying it as it occurs to her. "I think…I've always loved him."

Katara doesn't know what she expected. An outburst, maybe, a typically melodramatic Sokka reaction. He surprises her with his quiet smile, and his words surprise her even more.

"I know."

"Wha...? You—you _know_?" His calm assurance has left her sputtering. "How can _you_ know when I just figured it out!"

This time, there's definitely an element of smirk in his smile. "Brother's intuition?"

She wants to slap him. Sensing this, perhaps, he eases up.

"I guess I just know you, Katara. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out."

She slumps against the rail again. Not hard to figure out. Right. So why did it take Aang _dying_ for her to figure it out for herself?

"I guess…it kind of happened gradually, and I didn't even really notice until—" Well, until she'd kissed him in the cave, but she isn't about to mention it to her brother. Hoping the darkness will hide her blush, she continues, "—until it was too late."

"I'm trying to tell you, it's not too late. Aang is alive, Katara. You saved him."

"I know, but…"

"It's complicated."

She blew out her breath. Yeah. Complicated wasn't the least of it. Because…

Because whether she wants to admit it or not, this changes so much. How can she watch him put himself in danger when she feels this way about him? How can she let him fight the Firelord when he might not come back and everything is different now because she _loves_ him? And what is she supposed to tell him? _Is_ she supposed to tell him?

_What if he doesn't love me back?_

If _she_ is this confused, what would knowing all of this do to Aang? How are they supposed to focus on this war when…if…

Sokka leans over and grins in her face, prompting her to turn her back to him.

"I _don't_ want to talk about this."

For a moment, silence. And then his long arms are wrapped around her and a kiss is pressed into her hair. "Okay. I get it. Just so long as you know I'm here for you."

Again, he's melted her frustration at him. She reaches up to curl one hand over his arm. "You know, Sokka, for an insufferably arrogant jerk, you're not so bad."

She can feel the laugh as it runs through him, and he kisses her hair again. "I love you too, Katara."

* * *

A/N: Intrigued? What was your favorite part? Writers love to know these things. And it makes them write faster.

I pretty much know exactly where I want to take this. The prologue here flowed pretty easily, and I'm hoping the rest of it will follow the same way.


	2. Miscommunication

Recommended Listening: Pretty much anything by Damien Rice. But most especially Cannonball, the song quoted below, although I prefer Vienna Teng's version. It's a song about learning to love the hard way. Love/Longing by George Winston is what I wrote a good bit of this to. But really anything relatively slow and melancholy would suit this chapter. However, the bit at the celebration was written to "The Egg and I", a tune from the anime Cowboy Bebop, which is what I was imagining playing in the background during Aang's portion of that scene. If anyone is curious.

A/N: Just so there's no confusion, this picks up after Aang defeats the Firelord but _before_ Zuko's coronation and the Katang kiss at Ba Sing Se.

* * *

I. Miscommunication

* * *

There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth  
There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt  
It's still a little hard to say what's going on

There's still a little bit of your ghost, your witness  
There's still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed  
You step a little closer each day  
And I can't say what's going on

Stones taught me to fly  
Love taught me to lie  
Life taught me to die  
And it's not hard to fall

When you float like a cannonball  
- _Damien Rice, Cannonball_

_

* * *

_

She didn't hug him. This thought was foremost in his brain even hours later.

No hug. Aang had just returned from the most dangerous thing he'd ever done in his life, he was covered in minor burns and from the hitch in his chest when he breathed there were broken ribs in there somewhere. The burning from the scar in his back meant he'd probably re-injured something vital in the old wound. But the lack of the hug hurt more than anything.

The worst part was that he understood.

And it was all his fault anyway.

Of course she'd offered to heal him. And of course he'd refused. Just the thought of what it would be like, alone with her in a warm room, candlelight flickering over the walls, the silence broken only by their breathing and the quiet slosh of water, her occasional, "Here?" or "Does this hurt?"

No way was he putting himself through that.

Thoughts that he'd buried since that night on Ember Island resurfacing now that he was too tired to shove them away any longer. Things he'd denied in order to focus on the most important concern: Ozai. Now that he no longer had any distraction, now that he was lying here alone in the dark in a room of what he supposed was Zuko's palace… Now that there was nothing left but himself, he lay drowning in the memory of her voice and his own stupidity.

_Aang, I don't know._

_Why don't you know?_

_Because we're in the middle of a war and we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time._

And like an idiot he'd kissed her, and now she could barely even look at him. He turned over on his side, facing the wall, grimacing at the sharp stab in his chest and the answering flare of pain from his scar.

Hollow, inside and out. This wasn't how he'd imagined this day at all. An empty victory over a madman, a world saved from destruction, and he'd take it all back in a heartbeat if he could only erase that one night, wipe the slate clean and start over.

He'd lost her.

The raw truth of it churned in his gut until he thought he was going to be sick. He'd lost her, but he knew now that she'd never really been his to begin with, and along with all the bright possibility that might have been, he'd also lost his best friend and the one person in the world who'd never doubted him.

_Aang, I'm sorry, but right now…I'm just a little confused._

But Aang had never been confused, not about _her_. He'd been fully aware from the first time he'd woken up in her arms and looked into those bright blue eyes that she was something special. He'd _thought_ she'd felt the same way.

It was all gone now. She hadn't even come to support his fight against Ozai. Instead, she'd gone off with Zuko. Older, taller, smarter _Zuko. _In one night, in one blindly stupid blunder, he'd thrown away any chance he might've had with her and their friendship as well.

Alone, tired, aching inside and out. Burned out from too much bending and not enough sleep and channeling powers beyond life and death. He'd saved the whole world, and now he lay here wallowing in self-hatred and bitterness because he'd lost his girl along the way.

_Some great Avatar I turned out to be._

A quiet knock intruded on his thoughts and he replied, equally quietly, "Go away." Fully aware that he was wallowing and not even close to being ready to stop.

The door opened anyway, and he sat up quickly. "I _said_—" The words died on his tongue. "Katara." Hating the naked longing in his voice, he closed his mouth and hardened his expression.

Katara stood swaying a little, paused in the motion of shutting the door behind her. Hesitant, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes dark and worried. In her hands, a pitcher of water. After a moment her eyes fell from his.

"I know you said…you didn't need me to heal you but…I want to anyway."

And before he could formulate a response, she sat beside him. The bed dipped under her weight and she set the water on the floor by her feet. Aang closed his eyes and tried to resign himself to the fact that he was never going to be able to refuse her anything.

Fingertips brushed his scar and he couldn't suppress the shiver it sent though him. The light touch withdrew.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"It's all right."

Silence stretched between them.

Warm water over his skin, warm fingers tracing the pains in his body. Warm breath when she had to lean in close to wrap his torso, stabilizing the cracked ribs. There was a good bit of healing that she could do, but mostly she was just speeding up the natural processes of his body. He could feel her energy probing him, seeking out the hurts so that she didn't have to ask him aloud.

Suddenly, it was more than he could bear.

"Why weren't you there?"

The hand gliding over his bruised shoulder froze in place. He thought he felt a tremble run through her fingers. In the silence that followed the question, he realized that she might not have an answer. His shoulders slumped, eyes fluttering shut. He was too tired for this right now.

"Never mind," he said softly. "You don't have to answer that."

"I—it's just—" She blew out a breath, warm air rushing over his skin.

"Just forget it. It doesn't matter."

Her hands withdrew as she sat back. She was close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of her. She smelled like the ocean.

The silence was heavy and awkward, and he was painfully aware of her proximity. He closed his eyes. Deep breath. Calm and stillness, peace of mind. This seemed unattainable in the chaos of his emotions, in the bitterness dragging him down, but he tried, anyway.

"I just…I kind of expected you to be there."

This time, the silence stretched out for so long that he was startled when she finally spoke. Quiet words drifting up from behind him.

"Zuko would have died. If I hadn't been with him."

He wanted to say, _So?_

"He challenged her to an Agni Kai, and she was winning, Aang."

The tightness in his chest was restricting his breathing. He wondered that she couldn't hear the broken fluttering of his heart. He thought he might be sick all over the bed.

"So it's Zuko, then?"

A sharp intake of breath. "_What_? No, Aang, it's not like that. I'm just trying—"

"Don't."

A sharp hiss through bared teeth. "Why does everything always have to be so _complicated_ with you?"

He twisted around to stare at her, ignoring the bite of pain in his back. "Me? _I'm_ complicated? How could you even—after what you said, all that crap about being confused—"

Katara's eyes narrowed. "If you're talking about that stupid play, Aang, I _told _you—"

"You were _confused_. Right. I got it. I bet if _Zuko_ had kissed you on the balcony you wouldn't have said anything about being confused."

Her mouth dropped open and then she pressed her lips together in a thin line. Angry color darkened her cheeks, and there was clear fury in her eyes. Aang turned away again.

"I never," she said, low and clear, "asked you to kiss me. I tried to tell you that there were more important things to worry about, but you wouldn't—"

He said, quietly, "There's never been anything more important. Not to me."

There was a little silence while she digested this. After a moment, her hand softly pressed against his back. "Aang, I—"

A knock, brief and loud, and then Zuko pushed open the door without waiting for an answer.

"Aang, there's something you need to—oh." Two pairs of unhappy eyes greeted his unwelcome presence. "Oh, I, uh, I'm—I didn't mean to—interrupt. It's kind of important but I'll just come back some other—"

"It's okay," Aang said, and turned his face away. "She was just leaving."

Hurt flashed across Katara's expression and was quickly hidden. Zuko stepped quickly aside as she passed. Dark blue eyes, brows drawn together, mouth pressed in a flat line. The door slammed so hard that it shook in its frame, and the pot of water on the floor by the bed shattered.

In the sudden, ringing silence, Zuko was unsure of what to say.

"Um—"

Aang sighed, a deep shuddering breath. "What did you want to tell me?"

* * *

The people she met in the hall took one look at her face and scurried out of her way. Katara had no idea where she was going, storming down hallways towards the nearest water she could feel. She emerged on a balcony overlooking an empty courtyard with a fountain in it. Fists clenched, grinding her teeth, trying to convince herself it would be a bad idea to scream Katara strode toward the railing, glaring down at the fountain in the courtyard below.

_Stupid Aang!_

She _shoved_ her rage at it, rough and unskilled, not trying to shape the power at all. Water exploded skyward and she stood in the self-made rain, arms spread wide and face tilted upwards. She was soaked to the skin and that suited her just fine.

"That was an impressive display, young Waterbender."

She whirled around, intent on drowning whoever was stupid enough to intrude on her solitary fit of rage.

General Iroh stood in the open doorway, lifting one brow at her glare and raising one hand as if to ward her off. She took a deep breath and fought the rage down, then turned back to glare down at the ruin of the fountain.

"I thought you were in Ba Sing Se."

The words were flat, hostile. But he merely stood beside her, following the line of her gaze to the stone rubble and puddled water.

"I left as soon as victory was clear. I knew Zuko would need me here." He grinned a little at her, as if sharing a joke. "I was right."

She had nothing to say to this. She came out here to be _alone_, and the anger was still very strong. Iroh looked at her fists, clenched on the railing, taking in the narrowed eyes and deliberately slow breaths. He wondered if she was aware that she was trembling.

"They say that women make the best Waterbenders because they have a deeper awareness of the cycles of life. They also say this makes them more dangerous."

There was an unfeigned respect in his voice, and she softened a little at the compliment. His eyes moved from the wreckage in the courtyard to the drying tears on her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She swiped angrily at her cheeks. "No. I don't know. I messed everything up."

Iroh nodded as if this made perfect sense to him, and then his eyes caught on her necklace. A slow smile spread across his face. "You are Kanna's granddaughter, aren't you?"

Blue eyes widened. "You know Gran Gran?"

"Actually, I knew your grandfather, Choka. Many, many years ago, of course. It was from him that I learned the technique of redirecting lightning."

He watched as Katara settled some internal debate, emotions flashing through her blue eyes. Determination clear in every line of her face, she turned to him. "Could you teach me?"

They moved to the courtyard below, where there was less foot traffic. Katara searched along the ground for a moment, coming up with two long, thin sticks. She leaned over backward, combing out her hair a little with her fingers, and then twisted the dark mass of it into a rough knot on top of her head, holding it in place with the sticks. Two strands, set apart from the rest by blue beads secured near her forehead, hung free past her face.

She was a very striking young lady. Iroh wondered that he never made the connection of her identity before. She looked very much like her grandmother.

Misinterpreting his stare as a question, she explained, "It's hot and sweaty and it sticks to me. I'd rather have it out of the way."

"This heat must be very different from what you are used to."

She shrugged. "It's not too bad. I've been traveling with Aang for over a year now. You adapt to it eventually."

There was a shadow in her eyes when he mentioned the Avatar, but he let it pass. They settled into their stances, and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"As a Waterbender, your strength comes from turning your opponent's power against them. I learned a way to do this with lightning. If you let the energy in your own body flow, the lightning will follow it. You must create a pathway from your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, then down into your stomach."

He traced this path with his fingers, watching the intense way she focused on him. She was a much more diligent student than his nephew.

"The stomach is the source of energy in your body. From the stomach, you direct it up again and out the other arm. The stomach detour is critical. You must not let the lightning pass through your heart, where the damage could be deadly."

They practiced the motion for a time in silence, and although she perfected the flow pretty early on, he could see how calming it was for her and let it continue until she finally spoke.

"When Zuko fought his sister, she tried to shoot lightning at me. Even though the Agni Kai forbids it."

He had already heard this story from his nephew, but she wasn't really looking at him. Her eyes were half-open, gazing inward.

"He was only able to redirect part of it. And it almost killed him."

"He is very lucky that you were there to repair the damage."

"He would have died," she said, speaking almost to herself. There was a clear undertone of frustration in the words that he didn't understand. They continued to move in the slow, rhythmic motions of the technique.

"It's just—" she said abruptly after a while "—it's not like I—"

Again, there was silence.

He studied her face, the narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, the firm line of her mouth turned downward. He recalled her saying she'd messed something up, and wonders what it had to do with saving Zuko's life.

"Do you wish he _hadn't_ taken the strike for you?"

A snort that may have been laughter. "It might have simplified things."

"Has my nephew done something to upset you?"

Her eyes widened a little. "What? No, it's not Zuko, it's—" But she bit her lip and shook her head. The stubborn anger was back in her expression. "I don't want to talk about it."

He didn't ask, _Then why do you keep bringing it up_? Because after traveling with Zuko for so long he was familiar with the almost destructive sense of self-denial young people had when something really important was upsetting them, and also because there was a sudden sharp stabbing of pain in his chest.

He staggered a little, clutching his heart, and Katara was at his side at once, helping him sit on a large piece of the fountain.

"You're hurt! What is it?" And before Iroh could draw breath to tell her it was nothing, her hand was encased in water and moving his aside. She pressed her palm over the irregular fluttering of his heart and her mouth drew down into a frown.

"There's a hole in your heart," Katara said in shock.

"A souvenir of my young and stupid days. I tried to redirect someone's lightning with…somewhat less than successful results." He moved to stand, only to be shoved lightly back into place.

"Hold still," she told him. And then she took a deep breath and her eyes fluttered shut. There was a moment of stillness, and then the unfamiliar sensation of _coolness_, of liquid fluidity moving through his chest. The burning, the tightness, slowly eased. She released her breath and drew in another, and the drumming of his heart steadied. She still didn't move away, frowning in concentration, until at last she seemed satisfied.

She stood back, smiling and obviously very pleased with herself. Iroh looked at her in awe.

"You _fixed_ it."

The young woman was now smirking a little. "I didn't know your abilities—this is—" Iroh took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself. "I fought my brother once, a long time ago. It was supposed to be a training exercise but—he let his lightning get a little out of control. It was my first attempt to redirect real lightning, and I let some of it go through my heart. I have carried the scar of that mistake for almost my whole life."

Katara sat beside him, with one hand on his shoulder to steady him. Her blue eyes were very clear.

"I owe you a great deal of thanks, Master Katara."

"No, I—I enjoy healing. And I need the practice."

His eyebrows shot up. "A healer with enough power and precision to seal the hole in a man's heart still needs _practice_?"

She blushed at that. "I just mean—there's still a lot I need to learn. I've kind of focused more on fighting." She looked down at her hands, turning them palm-upward. Imagining, perhaps, all the damage they had done.

A sudden idea occurred to him, and he opened his mouth to suggest it, but then decided to wait until he could confirm it. He patted her on the shoulder instead. "Feel free to practice on me anytime."

She stood in front of him and bowed formally over her folded hands. "Thank you for teaching me the technique, Sifu Iroh."

The title brought a smile to his lips as he returned her bow. "It was my pleasure, Katara."

* * *

Sokka slammed the scroll down on the table. "Azula _escaped?_ How did Azula _escape_? You just _caught_ her!"

Several pairs of eyes narrowed at him, and he made an attempt to rein himself in.

Aang had gathered them in Sokka's room, all present except for Katara. Suki had helped Sokka into a chair where he sat with his bad leg propped across her lap. Zuko, on the other side of the table beside Toph, explained.

"She blew up the facility. Well, it's kind of a prison. For…people like her, people whose bending is warped, or…"

"A crazy house." This time, it was the blind Earthbender who was the recipient of the glares. Oblivious, she continued. "For loonies like Azula. Why didn't you just have Aang take away her bending, like he did the Firelo—like he took Ozai's?"

"It's not that easy, Toph."

At the quiet words, the whole room calmed a little.

They were the first words the Avatar had spoken since calling them all together. Sitting in the open window with his head back against the frame with Momo picking at a lose thread on the collar of his shirt, he looked more tired than Sokka had ever seen him. Drained, somehow.

Toph huffed a little, unsatisfied. "Well, why not?"

Aang sighed and opened his eyes. Momo chirped at him, and the Avatar ran his hand over the lemur's ears. "Because I'm not really sure _how_ I did it. And I need to rest before I try anything like that again."

Zuko stirred a little in his chair. He was looking at Aang with concern clear in his eyes. "We thought she'd be secure there for a few days. We've…held people like her there in the past, and no one has ever escaped."

"How? How did she manage to blow up a prison for insane Firebenders?"

"We're still looking into that."

"How many other crazy Firebending loonies are out there now?"

Zuko's eyes narrowed a little. "Look, Sokka, it's not that simple—"

Once again, Aang's quiet voice silenced everyone. "That's not what matters. The reason I wanted everyone to know is because we have to protect Zuko until the coronation. It's only a couple of weeks. Once he's officially the Firelord, _I'll_ go and deal with Azula."

Sokka and Zuko looked at each other.

"Alone?" Toph's shrill voice pierced the sudden silence. "Twinkletoes, I know you just beat the Firelord—I mean, the Phoenix whatever, Ozai—but I don't think facing Azula alone is the best idea. Do you _not_ remember what happened the last time you fought her?"

"That's exactly why I have to go alone. That way there aren't any—" he seemed to be searching for a word, and his lips curled over it as if it tasted bad "—_distractions_."

* * *

Aang spent most of the next day avoiding everyone.

This proved to be harder than he would've thought. In the wake of political upheaval and world peace, it seemed everyone wanted to talk to the Avatar. Some of it was important, and he had a lot of questions for the Fire Sages, but now was not the time. Not when he felt so…disconnected from himself.

Gravity was a heavy fist in his gut, pulling him into the earth. The bitter weight of _failure_. Zuko stumbled across him sulking by the turtle duck pond and tried to drag him away for Firebending instruction.

"I really just want to be alone."

Zuko squatted down in front of him, peering intently at his face. After a moment, he shook his head and pulled Aang to his feet. "Come on. It's a good way to relieve emotional tension."

The soldiers at the entrance to the training complex bowed to them as they entered, and the soon-to-be-Firelord returned the gesture. They moved through a maze of hallways and finally emerged in an open courtyard with a stone fountain off to one side.

Zuko striped off his outer layer of clothing and left it by the door. After a moment, Aang removed his shirt as well.

"All right," Zuko said, taking up a defensive stance. "Show me your best."

This was an old game. Creativity was as much a part of Firebending as it was in everything, and Zuko was forever testing Aang to come up with new ways to use it.

But all Aang could think about were blue eyes and dark skin and that voice. _I don't know. I'm confused._ Heartbreak, evidently, was not conducive to Firebending. He could barely even summon the flames, and when he did they sputtered and died in a matter of moments. Zuko pushed him for a while and then finally stopped, glaring at him.

"How did you ever manage to defeat my father with your Firebending this weak?"

Aang dropped his gaze. "I don't want to talk about it."

Silence. Avoidance. Zuko sighed. _Typical Airbender_. "What's wrong? What's got you so unbalanced?"

"I _really_ don't want to talk about it, Zuko."

"Well, I don't see that you have much choice. Whatever it is, it's even affecting your bending."

Aang let the fire die, and turned away. "Look, no offense, but I'm not sure you're the best person to talk to about this."

Zuko put his own fire out and walked slowly over to sit on the edge of the fountain. He looked thoughtfully at Aang, and then tilted his head back and turned his gaze on the sky. After a moment, he said, "Maybe I'm not the best person. But I'm the person that's here asking you." He looked down again to meet Aang's eyes squarely with his own. "We're friends, aren't we? Don't friends want to help each other?"

Aang dropped down beside him with a sigh. Reluctant to bring this raw emotion to the surface again, but knowing that he had to do something. Painfully aware of his own youth, and thinking about how much Zuko must know in comparison. _No wonder Katara doesn't want to be with me. I'm just a kid._

Thinking of Jet, and Haru, and _Zuko_. All older, mature, more experienced. _Taller_, even.

Aang remembered the way she looked when he'd made her that dumb necklace, the self-conscious smile on her face. She'd worn the thing until it fell apart, and he'd thought about making her another one but things had…_intensified_ between them at that point, or at least _he'd_ thought they had, and he hadn't wanted to reveal his secret.

Even if there were _better_ guys out there, how could anyone else ever _feel_ like this about her? Katara was the most incredible person, kind and caring and devoted. Beautiful. She'd always been there for him, whenever he'd needed _anything_ from her, never questioning, never seeming resentful. He'd thought she'd felt the same way about him. He'd caught her looking at him sometimes with such an _intense_ expression on her face, and she'd always blush and look away while his heart gave a little lurch of hope.

He wanted to marry her. He wanted a _life_ with her, a lifetime to show her how much he loved her and how important she was to him. He wanted to wake up with her every morning and fall asleep with her every night and spend every moment _breathing_ her because she was—life itself.

And he'd pushed her away. And now he couldn't have _any _of it. His future stretched out before him and it was _empty_.

"So, are you gonna start talking? Or do you want me to guess?"

Startled, Aang looked up to meet Zuko's gaze. "What? Oh, I… Sorry, Zuko. It's just kind of—complicated."

"Are we talking about a girl?"

Despite himself, he blushed and looked down at his hands, clasped firmly on the edges of the fountain. "Yeah."

"And if we're talking about a girl and it's complicated, we must be talking about Katara."

If just _thinking_ about it like this made him feel sick to his stomach, how was he supposed to _talk_ about it? Deep breath, in and out. After a moment, he shifted on the edge of the fountain until he sat in the lotus position, closed fists pressed together, eyes shut.

The storm inside slowed a little, and gave him space to breathe. "She hates me."

An incredulous snort from the young Firebender. "Yeah. Right. And I'm the Queen of Hersheba."

Irritation flared. "You wanted me to talk to you and now you're laughing at me?"

"Aang, Katara doesn't hate you." Zuko felt like he was pointing out the obvious.

Aang opened his eyes, and sighed. "Maybe hate is a little strong," he admitted. "But that's how it _feels_."

"Why would you say that? I thought she was your best friend." He stopped when Aang winced. "Something happened, didn't it."

"I kissed her." These words weren't usually said so glumly.

"And she didn't like it?"

"I—I don't know. I thought she did. I thought she knew that I—how I feel about her, but… Then nothing changed. She never said a word about it, and at first I thought maybe she just needed a little time, you know?" Zuko nodded as Aang rushed on. "But she never said anything. And I—I didn't want to fight your father if—I mean, not knowing if I would come back or not, I didn't— Well, I asked her about it. About her feelings for me."

"And?" Zuko pressed when Aang fell silent.

"She said she was confused. So, I kissed her again. I thought, oh I don't know, that maybe she wouldn't be confused if she knew. If she knew how much I love her."

"She rejected you."

"Yeah. She did."

"Well, have you talked about it? I mean, maybe she's had time to—"

"It gets worse." Aang dropped his fists to his knees. Eyes downcast. "She's my best friend, Zuko. And I've been in love with her since the moment I saw her. She's always been there when I've needed her. But when I fought the Firelord, she was here. With _you_. And I thought, okay, she beat Azula. Fine. And then I saw her and she didn't—I mean, she could barely even _look_ at me." A deep, shuddering breath, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "She hates me."

"Aang…don't you think you might be overreacting a little? Maybe if you just give her a little time, she'll come around."

"You don't understand," Aang whispered. "I—for so long she's been…_everything_. Katara…always believed in me. Even when I couldn't believe in myself. She's my—I don't even know a word for it. I _love_ her, Zuko."

Whoa. Um. "Have you thought that maybe she…" This might not be the right thing to say, but Aang probably needed to hear it. "Maybe she…maybe that is more than she wants to be. Maybe that's a little…much…for a beginning?"

_Definitely_ the wrong thing to say. Tears spilled over from gray eyes and Aang wasn't even trying to hide it. Zuko fought the urge to cringe away from him.

"I know," Aang said, painfully, "I know, I know, I know. Do you think I don't know? I messed up. I just—" He tried to get himself under control, closing his eyes and clenching his fists, but a sob choked free. "I _need_ her, Zuko. She's my best friend, she's _Katara_, and I _need_ her, and I broke everything and I don't know what to do." The last was spoken in a strangled breath and Aang pressed his hands over his face.

Zuko gingerly rested one hand on Aang's shoulder. "I—That wasn't what I meant to say, Aang, I'm—_Please_ don't cry." The kid was shaking his head and took several deep, shuddering breaths before lowering his hands. The tears stopped but…he looked so _miserable_.

This was going to take more than just a sympathetic ear. Zuko thought for a moment, trying to figure out what his Uncle would say to fix this.

"You remember the day I joined your group?" At Aang's nod, he continued. "After we dealt with—what did you call him, Combustion Man? Sokka found me an empty room to stay in. I remember sitting there alone, thinking about what my Uncle might have said if he'd known I'd finally turned my life around. And then Katara showed up." Aang was watching him intently now, face unreadable. "She said that if I did anything to hurt you, she would kill me."

Aang's jaw dropped. "I—_what_?"

"Yeah. And let me tell you, she _meant_ it. Scared the sh—well. She was pretty scary."

Aang was silent for a moment, digesting this.

"When you joined our group—I mean, from an outside perspective and everything… What did you—" The kid stopped, unsure of how to phrase his question.

Guessing at what it was, Zuko said, "Honestly, when I first joined you guys, I kind of thought the two of you were together."

Aang let his head drop and said, so low Zuko almost missed it, "Honestly, I kind of thought so, too."

* * *

There was some sort of spur of the moment celebration, thrown together by the Fire Nation elite in his honor.

At least, Aang _thought_ that's what it was about. Someone had explained it all to him earlier, but at this point he wasn't not sure if it was Zuko or maybe Iroh or just the chambermaid that'd been sent to bring him the suffocating Avatar robes he wore now.

Restoration of balance, end of war and chaos, time to rejoice and enjoy peace and prosperity. Eat, drink, and be merry, for soon we crown our new Firelord and celebrate the end of the reign of a madman.

Or something like that, anyway.

There were far too many people.

Why couldn't they just leave him _alone_? Didn't anyone understand what this war had _cost_ him, not just in terms of Katara, but his whole _people_, as well as a hundred years of his _life_? Maybe they didn't care. Maybe no one did.

This was not a comforting thought.

He'd never really minded the heat of the Fire Nation before, but tonight, standing in the too-bright lights with too many people talking around him and breathing all the air, he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. There was some sort of cheerful, upbeat island tune playing that was so at odds with his emotions it was making him nauseous. A headache beat at his temples, like his skull was too tight for his eyes.

He'd never felt this angry at this many people for no reason at all.

He really, really, _really_ just wanted to curl up in the dark somewhere and pull the blanket over his head and sleep for another hundred years. At least then he wouldn't have to watch _her_ dance with every man in the Fire Nation, and more besides. He spent a good bit of energy avoiding her, which was more difficult than he'd've thought, because it seemed every time he turned around he had to watch her smiling up at some other man.

There were still un-healed _wounds_ on his body from his fight with Ozai, and here he stood, in the heart of the Fire Nation, drinking too much overly sweetened wine while the nobility prattles on about fashion in Ba Sing Se. If it weren't for the bitterness inside him, he might've been laughing.

Aang could understand the desire to escape, so part of him didn't blame them at all. Their whole world was just turned upside down in a matter of hours, so it didn't surprise him that they react this way, with denial and escapism.

But the more time he spent there, the less he cared about any of it. He was having a harder and harder time keeping the frozen smile painted on his face.

A hand on his shoulder, spinning him roughly around. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that it took him a long moment to recognize the happy, leering face as Haru.

"Aang, so good to see you again! How are you? Have you seen Katara?"

Aang's scowl deepened, and he jerked his shoulder free of the young man's grasp. "No," he said. "I haven't."

Enough was enough. He had to get away while his sanity was still intact. He scanned the room for Zuko, but before he even began to make his way toward the Firelord, someone else loomed over him.

"Hakoda," he said, genuinely surprised. The Water Tribe chieftain smiled down at him.

"Congratulations, Avatar Aang, on your victory."

"I—thank you, sir," Aang bowed over his hands.

"They tell me that you didn't actually kill the Firelord." Despite the phrasing, this was a question, and one that Aang has had to explain countless times tonight already. He opened his mouth to do so again, when Hakoda added, "I don't know if I have the right to say this, but I'm proud of you, Aang."

Closing his mouth, Aang could only blink at him. "I—you are?"

"Yes. It takes a great deal more strength to _avoid_ taking life."

Aang searched for some appropriate way to respond to this, trying to reign in the turmoil of his thoughts. "Thank you, Chief Hakoda. That means a lot to me. My…my people believe that all life is sacred and it was…more important than you can imagine that I not kill Ozai."

Hakoda laid one heavy hand on Aang's shoulder. "I understand. I'm glad you were able to stand by your beliefs."

Having run out of words, Aang only bowed and moved away, missing the thoughtful look the Water Tribe chieftain sent after him.

Open air. This was all he could think about. Somewhere outside, under the stars where he could really _breath_, maybe even get this churning storm of confusion and frustration under control.

Zuko watched him flee, and then turned a thoughtful expression on the young Waterbender, lost to the world and dancing with some young man on the other side of the room.

* * *

Katara didn't know at first that he'd gone. She wasn't really paying much attention to anything, dancing with whoever asks because then she didn't have to talk.

She couldn't really think of anything to say to anyone anyway.

She wondered if this was what Aang felt like, after what she'd said on Ember Island. If she didn't even have the focus to _talk_ to people, how did Aang ever find the focus to defeat Ozai?

Small wonder he couldn't even bring himself to _look_ at her.

Katara was trying her hardest to avoid everyone, but after Haru finally released her, she found herself breathless on a bench in a shadowed corner, trying to get herself under control. Only a moment, maybe two, and suddenly Zuko was looming over her, holding out his hand in a wordless command.

What was the saying, no rest for the weary? Katara sighed, took one last deep breath to steady herself, and let him draw her back onto the dance floor.

For a while, he didn't say anything and she wondered why he asked her to dance. One hand lightly on her back, hardly guiding her at all. He wasn't even looking at her. His face was contorted in a scowl.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"I had a pretty interesting conversation with Aang today."

There was no reason, no reason at all, to feel so nervous at this flatly spoken sentence. When she had no reply, he looked briefly at her.

"You're killing him, you know."

Her heart constricted in her chest, and she had to swallow before her voice was steady enough to speak. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Zuko spun her roughly around. "The least you can do is be honest about it. You're breaking the kid's heart."

Narrowed eyes. Clenched teeth. Tears threatening to spill over _again_ and her heart beating way too fast. The room was a blur. Zuko was little more than a warm presence and unwelcome words.

"You must really hate him."

"I don't—" Too loud. Try again. "I don't _hate_ him," Katara hissed through her teeth.

"No?" An arched brow, surprise in his voice. "Aang thinks you do."

"I—" Zuko would never understand. "That isn't—" How did he know what Aang thought? "No one ever—" And why was she still trying to explain herself to _this_ idiot anyway? A growl through clenched teeth, "If you hadn't _barged _in while I was trying to—"

And she stopped.

_While I was trying to apologize for what a huge _mistake_ I've made. _

_While I was trying to _defend_ my stupid mistake._

The tears spilled over and Zuko was looking at her with such clear _pity_ in his eyes and she became suddenly aware of how _crowded_ the dance floor was. Katara yanked her hand out of his grasp and shoved her way through the people. She tried not to run but it was hard. Too many people, too much brightness, and then she was out in the starlight and leaning over the balcony railing with one hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Holding in a scream, or maybe trying to fight down the nausea rolling in her stomach.

She tried to remember how this all got started, tried to call up the clear-eyed certainty but there was nothing inside her except regret and self-loathing. Something about confusion. Something about _not the right time, Aang_.

_How could you send him off to _die_ like that? He thinks you _hate_ him._

In that moment it was herself she hated, a bitter burning where her heart should have been.

This was exactly how she'd felt when he'd _died_ trying to protect her in the crystal catacombs under Ba Sing Se. This was exactly what she'd wanted to _avoid_ feeling when she'd turned him away on Ember Island.

_How can love _hurt_ so much?_

She had thought he needed to focus. She had thought he would have been distracted. She'd been a coward and a fool and she deserved this.

From behind her, slow footsteps. A sudden presence leaned against the railing beside her, and she was not surprised at all when Iroh's voice broke the silence.

"Such a beautiful girl, to be alone at such a happy party, and looking so sad."

Why did everyone think they had the right to interfere with her like this?

Because she obviously couldn't handle it, that's why.

"It's not something I want to talk about."

There was silence for a time and she almost forgot that he was there when he finally spoke.

"I know you do not expect anything for the healing, but I wanted you to have this." He pulled a thin, oblong box out of his robes and held it out. "Please," he added when she hesitated.

The box itself was beautiful all on its own. Black cloth with intricate needlework, moonrose vines trailing around the edges. She lifted the lid.

Two ceramic hair sticks, one white and one black. The writing named them _Tui_ and _La_.

Speechless, she could only stammer. "These—I can't accept this, I—" She tried to give it back, but his fingers closed gently over hers.

"The designer is a friend of mine. They were not very expensive. You see?" He lifted the white one from the box. Moonlight gleamed on ivory and ink-dark letters. "They are only ceramic."

He replaced it in the box and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she whispered, holding the box over her heart.

He leaned beside her, folding his arms over the railing and looking out at the stars. "I have a confession to make," he said, and his eyes flickered briefly over her face. "Zuko sent me out here."

Her head made a thump when it hit the railing. There was a moment of silence, music drifting out from the party and faint sounds of the city life below. His hand moved gently over her hair.

"This," Katara said after a while, "is not easy for me." Because she was not often wrong and she had never been _this_ wrong in her life. "And—" She sniffed, lifting her head. "I don't even know where to _start_. I really, _really_ messed up."

"It is never easy to let go of one's pride."

Katara dropped her eyes to her hands again. "No," she agreed in a whisper. "It's not."

He lifted his fingers and wiped away the tears she hadn't known had leaked free. "If you love him, if you _really_ love him, you will let go of it anyway."

Yes. But there's the catch. "What if he doesn't want—"

She couldn't even finish. Her hands clenched and her vision blurred again.

"Go to him," Iroh said gently. "Admit your mistake. He will forgive you. He has a good heart, and I think most of it belongs to you anyway."

She startled him when she threw her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"It is my pleasure, Katara," he said, and returned her hug. His voice was a little rough. "I know that it is not easy to be young and in love."

Katara was finally beginning to realize that _nothing_ in life was easy.

* * *

A/N: First, to everyone who took the time to review, _thank you_. The writers among you know that the reaction from your readers is kind of the whole point, so I hope you have the time to tell me what you thought of this chapter.

The best thing for me is when you tell me what you liked best. It helps me hone the message of the story a little more. _And_ if I know what you like, you will see more of it. Just saying.

This chapter took longer to write than I had expected, and I eventually split everything into _two_ chapters. So, hopefully, since the next one is about half written, it won't take too long to finish. I got really sick of this at the end and just needed it to be _done_ so I can move on, so there are some parts of this I'm not personally satisfied are 100% enough for me. I might go back and polish it later. Meh.

Maybe this is just a girl thing, but regarding Katara's hair in the third season: long, thick hair, down, in the summertime, in the freaking Fire Nation? Really? _Really?_ Augh! It makes you hotter and it gets _everywhere_ and it _sticks_ because you're _sweaty_ and _gross_ and there are days when you want to _yank it all out_. Seriously, that's the better alternative. So, if you were reading the whole hair-sticks thing and going, _Huh…?_ That's your answer. There. I said it. It drove me crazy for the whole third season and now I've fixed it.

Reviews:

Mithendel: Thank you extra for being first. :-) I'm glad the whole thing worked well for you, and I hope you liked this chapter too.

Kataanglover112: Well, there's more Kataangst than romance so far, but just be patient ;-) Glad you enjoyed the whole thing.

Ayala Atreides: This whole story kind of sprung from my curiosity as to what Katara would be thinking/feeling about Aang's death. I'm glad that you liked my conclusion. It's hard sometimes to write something that emotionally intense and not fall off the edge into melodrama.

aang'sbestbuddy: When I wrote this, I hadn't originally intended for her to tell him, but it was one of those moments where the characters seem to have a mind of their own and I sat back and kind of let the scene write itself. I actually debated on taking that part out and re-writing it, but without it the emotional intensity seemed to fall flat. I'm glad you didn't think it was too OOC. That's what I was worried about. :-)

arizony: High praise indeed, thank you! I've found it very rewarding to try and get inside her head, and I'm glad you feel I succeeded.

kiss-from-a-rose-71090: I had an…odd sort of childhood and my sister and I pretty much raised each other, so the relationship between Sokka and Katara has always been easy for me to identify with. I thought the show did a wonderful job of illustrating what it's like in that strange parent/best friend relationship that develops between siblings in situations where the parenting itself is more…unconventional, or even absent altogether.

Malevolent Dark Reflection: If you liked the Kataangst in the last chapter, I hope this one pleased you as well. :-) Watching the Ember Island episode was…gut wrenching, to say the least, and I've always thought Katara had a _lot_ of sucking up to do for the horrible way she treated him there.


	3. Connection

Recommended Listening: Aang's scene was written to Sarah McLachlan's _Do What You Have To Do_, which is incredibly fitting for what he's thinking there. And I have found that there is nothing better for getting inside Azula's head than _Requiem for a Dream_.

* * *

II. Connection

* * *

I would build a bridge a hundred meters long,  
To see the other side of what I did wrong,  
Well you say you don't hate me, but I guess that I'm scared,  
That with a river between us, you'll no longer care.

I would beg your forgiveness for the pain that I've fed  
And I'd find the source of the river you've bled.  
Then I'd close the gates of the dam I built there.  
And never again will you have anything to fear.  
_- __Marc Gunn, The Bridge_

_

* * *

_

_You are broken you are flawed you are weak you are hollow_.

They laughed at her, like they had never dared to do before, openly and taunting, rubbing in her face that they were free and they had left her and she would never be anything, nothing in her whole life worth anything at all.

_They find it soooo amusing, that she has fallen this far_.

Once upon a time, she'd had everything she was supposed to have wanted. Firelord Azula, daddy's pride and joy. She'd had respect and _power_ and _control_, she'd had the whole world at her fingertips, every living person at her beck and call. Once upon a time, she'd had _friends_, once upon a time she had _trusted_, she'd shown them all that she was, she had shown them all that _they_ could be and at the first possible moment they'd stabbed her in the back. Just like all the rest. Lying to her face and showing their teeth the moment she turned away.

(Just like _Mommy_)

Everything she'd ever wanted, and it was like ash in her mouth, bitter and dusty and lifeless. She'd fought so hard for so long only to end up here, in a dark cell in gods only knew what mental ward, isolated and rejected and _alone alone alone_.

It was like a dance, it was like flying. Riding the knife-edge between fear and hatred. She had always, forever, given everything she had into everything she did. She had always been the best, she had never hidden anything, and yet they underestimated her over and over and over again until she wanted to laugh in their faces—_How stupid can you be?_—and she wondered, was this how father felt, looking out at the rest of the world? Unworthy. Weak. She would _burn them all_.

A smile. Teeth bared in the darkness. This was where they erred, this was where they _always_ slipped up. Because she never _stopped_ being less than everything she was, and that was a claim few in life could make.

_It had always been a game of balance_.

Broken glass sharp between her toes, crimson drops that welled up and spilled over the crystal shards. Open night air and a thin moon and a midnight breeze whispering over her skin. The sweet smell of charred flesh hung heavy in the air. Hot stones under bare feet. This was freedom, of a kind, swelling hot and thick in her blood. This power was a birthright that could never be denied, never taken away.

Zuko had a saying everyone knew: Azula always lies. Only Azula knew the other side of that coin: Zuko always gets everything Azula wants. But that had never stopped her from _taking_ it.

_The fraying ends of sanity. When the ties that bind…don't. _

She had been aware of her own uncertain mental state for such a long time that she couldn't even remember first noticing it. Long and long ago, when the world had been bright and happy and the word _Azula_ meant a fierce, playful little girl who loved her brother and made sandcastles by the sea. A lifetime ago, and even then she'd known about this slippery darkness inside of her. Shipped off to boarding school, alone and unwanted, she'd cultivated it until it flourished within her and became strength, became the bastion to house her soul.

She had always given her best, in everything she'd ever done. This was no different.

Seeking solace in the one thing that would never fail her, never let her down: her power. Blue fire in the dark, phosphorescent heat that burned away the demons, the whispers and doubts that never ceased to haunt her.

She was the child they had never really wanted. She'd grown up in the bright shadow of the crown prince, the perfect one, the one who was granted his every desire without ever having to struggle. No door had ever been closed in _Zuko's_ face, no one had ever shunned the heir to the throne, no one had ever laughed at him or mocked him or humiliated him. Zuko, pampered and perfect sun-child, had never known what it was like to be _alone_. And she hated him for it with a slow, bitter burn that became her greatest strength.

She'd always been aware that her view of the world was in some unknown fundamental way _different_. Flawed. Like she saw everything through a fractured lens. Sometimes she could reach through the gap and find a place to connect herself to the lives around her, and sometimes connecting with the weak and powerless was more trouble than it was worth.

Then everything feel apart, like everything always had, and left her with only the rage. Smoldering like an ember, biding its time until it flared to life—a supernova and left her blinded. Azula had an awareness and gradual disinterest in this process, as the ropes that held her life together slipped and the bridge wobbled beneath her feet. Uncertain safety was so far away, and she'd never been able to fly. What lay behind her was burning and turning to ash as the flames got closer and closer and _closer_ and the darkness below seemed _soooo inviiiting_.

It had always been a game of balance, and she'd always been so good at games.

The tenuous threads holding her mind snapped, and she fell.

There had never been anyone there to catch her.

* * *

Aang considered going back to his room but the thought of being stuck between stone walls at earth-level was more than he could handle.

He needed height, open space. Open air.

The highest building on the palace grounds was a bell tower, and the stairs spiraled through all the way to the top. Emerging into weak moonlight, he removed his shoes. Rough stone under bare feet. He made his way to the edge and sat down in the lotus position. Just the walk out here, just being alone had already helped him swallow the edge of panic he'd felt in the midst of the crowd, and he'd realized something. He _had_ to get this under control. It wasn't really in his nature to deal with issues, the Airbender escape-and-evade went too deep. Probably why he'd run away all those lifetimes ago and ended up here in the first place.

If he didn't come to some sort of resolution about _her_ he was going to want to run away again. He couldn't live like this. But he couldn't leave, not with Zuko and everyone else depending on him. Aang would have to make this sacrifice because the Avatar had inescapable duties.

So here he sat, far above the world, alone in the dark while the wind rustled his clothing. Trying to sink into meditation and failing for a long time. Trying to _let go_ of his love for her and feeling like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't draw enough oxygen, and it was making him dizzy. He stopped, opening his eyes and resting one hand on his forehead. Sweat dripped off of him.

He began to realize that it might be impossible.

_I'm in love with her. That's not going to change, ever. But she doesn't love me back. The question is: can I still be her friend?_

The answer was hard.

He felt the same way he had back at the Eastern Air Temple, unblocking chakras and trying to unlock his full potential. And he came to the same conclusion now as he had then.

Letting go of her wasn't an option. It was just…not. Nothing in his life would really matter, without her.

He'd wanted to be with her for so long, watching her and doing everything he could just to see that _smile_, to hear her laugh, to watch color bloom in her cheeks or to feel those soft lips brush his cheek. When she'd kissed him in the Cave of Two Lovers, as brief and hesitant as the contact had been, it'd sent an electric thrill through his whole body. He'd spent weeks _dreaming_ about it, imagining what _could be_, fantasizing about what life would be like, if (he always thought, _when_) they were together.

It would have to be enough just to be near her. Just to have the hope, the possibility that _someday_, that _maybe_.

He didn't know how to let her go, because she was part of him.

He'd always thought this went both ways. He'd that one day she'd feel the same. He'd never even considered the possibility that she…_wouldn't_. She was going to give that smile to someone else, she was going to _love_ someone else. _She was going to marry someone else and he was going to have to watch_.

His hands curled into fists, nails biting into palms, teeth clenched hard, tears burning his eyes.

How was he ever going to _do_ this? How did _anyone_ do this?

Reconciliation with the fact that they wouldn't, ever, be together. She wasn't his. She didn't love him. Trying to be _okay_ with that.

He didn't even know _why_ he loved her, why out of all the girls he could've fallen for it was Katara that held his heart in the palm of her hand. He'd never even thought about anyone else this way, and he didn't think he ever would. It was only her, and it would only ever be her.

He loved her because of her innate kindness, the gentleness of spirit that resonated with his own. He loved her for her temper, for the fierce warrior that could command the tides and call water from an empty sky. He loved her for her unflinching faith in him, the belief that had borne him up and held him together when he hadn't even believed in himself.

It was in the way the candlelight flickered over her skin, the softness in her eyes when she looked at him. The curve of her fingers and slant of her eyes, the scent of her hair. The way she sometimes seemed to blur in his sight, image distorting and blending from the girl she was into the woman she would become. The other half of his immortal soul, his love, his life. Katara. Vital to him in a way he'd never thought anyone could ever be, as necessary to his being as the breath in his lungs or the blood in his heart.

She was _part_ of him, and integral piece of his identity, and she always would be. Nothing either of them could ever do would change that. The way he felt about her, the longing that rose up in his chest and choked off his breath just _thinking_ about her, the gut-clenching need that burned in his blood to have her, to hold her close, to feel her fingers on his skin or her lips warmly responding to his kiss, to see the slow curve of her mouth in a smile that was all for him—he'd taken these things so deeply into himself that to separate her out would leave him aching with a bitter emptiness of purpose, of _life_.

_How can I let you go? You complete me, you balance me, you _are_ me. _

The answer was that he couldn't, now or ever, let her go. And he didn't want to.

The way he felt about her would never be platonic, never innocent. He wanted her with a burning in his gut that left him breathless. But if satisfying that desire meant losing her forever, he couldn't do it. If all she would give him was friendship he would take it and be _glad _because she meant more to him than he could ever possibly express, more than words could frame or heart could hold. If pain was the price he would bear it, if he had to watch her grow up and fall in love with someone else and spend the rest of her life in another man's arms, he would support her in any way she permitted.

_Because that's what love really is_.

A deep breath, pulled into his lungs, gathering in all the pain and the anger and resentment, distancing himself from himself and with the clarity of unbiased perspective—and releasing all of it with his breath. It would hurt like nothing ever had, it would be the hardest thing in his life he ever had to face, but he would love her with no expectation of return and with no strings attached.

When he finally opened his eyes, it was to find her sitting beside him.

* * *

"If I dance with you, are you going to send me running away in tears, too?"

The husky purr of her voice in his ear held a teasing note beneath the normally flat tone. A smile tugged at one corner of Zuko's mouth, and he turned to take Mai into his arms.

"That depends," he said, and led her out onto the dance floor. She fit perfectly against him, flowing steps matching his with no hesitation. Her arm slid around his neck. "Are you going to be an empty headed twit?"

One thin brow arched in query. "What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. Let's talk about something happy."

"Me? Happy?" She frowned at him, but he could see the amusement lurking in her eyes. "Zuko, you're talking about the wrong girl."

He realized he was smiling stupidly down at her, and that they were dancing a lot closer than that particular tune called for, but at that moment all he could think about was how warm her body was against his and how good her hair smelled.

"You're right, I forgot. Impending ruler-ship does that to a man."

Both brows shot up. "Did you just make a joke? Who are you, and what have you done with my sulky, humorless boyfriend?"

_Humorless?_ Zuko wiped the smile off of his face and attempted to keep his voice flat. "Right. You're absolutely right. I don't know what came over me. So, what was the worst thing that happened to you today?"

He kept his eyes past her face, out on the other people, but he could tell she was fighting a smile.

"Mmm. Probably when I found out that my boyfriend is going to be the new Firelord."

He snorted. "Yeah, I think that was my worst part, too."

Something in her expression softened. "Zuko, jokes aside—you're going to be a great Firelord."

"I—you really think so?"

Mai snorted, then leaned up on her toes to kiss his forehead. "Yeah," she said. "I really do. And so does your uncle, and so does the Avatar, and so do all those crazy new friends of yours. We believe in you, Zuko."

He didn't know what to say, and he was mortified to find that he was blushing. "I—Mai, that's—"

She waved his sentimentality aside. "Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it. That's all the supply of fluff I have. It's gloom and despair from here on out."

Zuko stopped in the middle of the dance floor, and then leaned down and kissed her. Aware of the whispers rising around them, but more aware of Mai's arms around his neck and her body flush against his. He finally broke away and was rather pleased that it took her a moment before she could stand on her own.

"You're blushing," he said, delighted, as he led her over to sit down for a moment. Self-consciously, she ran a hand over her hair.

"You're imagining things," she said. Zuko sat down on the bench and stared up at her.

"You know, I still don't hate you."

Mai's expression softened, and she blushed again. "I still don't hate you, too."

* * *

One of the things they had in common was seeking out their element in times of stress, and so after his room proved empty, she walked outside and looked around for the tallest structure on the palace grounds. Thanking whatever spirits might be listening that he'd picked a place actually accessible with stairs, Katara climbed to the top of the bell tower.

He was meditating when she found him, sitting on the very edge of the tower, face tilted up to the moon. After a moment's deliberation, she sat beside him, mimicking his pose. She could use a little calming down. Her breathing wasn't very steady and neither was her heartbeat. Palms sweaty, heart heavy with a quivering kind of fear. She had never been afraid of _him, _and that's not the problem now. She was afraid of what he might say.

She was afraid of the words he might _not_ say: _I forgive you_.

After a moment spent unsuccessfully struggling with herself, Katara opened her eyes and found that he was watching her. His expression was inscrutable.

"I'm doing this all wrong." The words were out before she was even aware of thinking them.

"What do you mean?" Quiet, softly spoken.

Their relationship. Her life. Anything and everything, take your pick.

Backing away from the truth, Katara took the easy way out. "You always seem so calm after you meditate. I…have a lot that's bothering me, and I thought I'd give it a try but it's not working."

Aang regarded her in silence for a moment, and then his eyes dropped to her lap. "Well, you need to adjust your legs. If you sit like that, you'll lose feeling in your feet. Part of the pose is comfort. You have to sit like this for a while, so you need to make sure your body is comfortable."

She moved her legs a little, settling in. "Like this?"

He shook his head. There was a time, not long ago, when he would have simply reached out and adjusted her body for her, perhaps even blushing a little. "Turn your ankles a little more outward."

She complied and then looked at him, one brow arched. "Better?"

A small nod. "Yes."

Silence.

It had never been this hard to reach him before.

Tentatively she asked, "Now what? What do I do with my hands?"

A shrug, one shoulder rising and falling beneath his robe. "It depends on what you're trying to do with the meditation. Are you looking for insight or perspective? Are you trying to let go of something or open up? Searching for understanding or enlightenment?"

She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed the sound of his voice.

"Yes."

His mouth twisted upward at one corner, for a fleeting moment, and her heart beat a little faster in response.

"Well, then we'll go with something simple." His hands curled into fists and he pressed them together in front of his chest. She copied the motion, then looked at him expectantly.

"Now close your eyes."

Long lashes fluttered shut, and his voice continued.

"Think about your breath. Feel it, listen to it. Find your natural rhythm."

Katara hadn't had any natural rhythm in her life since she'd been such a fool at that stupid play, but she was determined to try anyway. She took in a deep breath and could feel how unsteady she was. The air escaped all too soon, leaving her without oxygen. Katara tried again only to realize that she was shaking a little, and she inhaled too fast this time.

The problem was she didn't really _want_ to look inside herself. There was too much anguish in there, the slow burn of shame and the bitter pull of self-hatred. Unfamiliar feelings, because she didn't usually make mistakes, and never in her life had she done something as bad as breaking Aang's heart.

Beside her, closer than before, he murmured, "You really are upset." And then his hands were tugging hers apart and her eyes fluttered open. "Let's try this a little differently," he said. Aang sat in front of her, scooting forward until their knees were pressed together. He placed her hands there, palms upward, and his hovered over them. He tilted his head and scrutinized her for a moment.

"Relax your shoulders. You have to let go of some of the tension before you start. Just set it aside for now."

A shiver ran through her. She did the best she could, taking a deep breath and _forcing_ the tension out of her shoulders and spine.

"Much better. Now, I'm going to help you direct your energy. But you're going to have to be a little more specific about what you're trying to accomplish with this. Otherwise I won't know where to take you."

In all honesty, Katara kind of _had_ accomplished what she'd wanted: he was talking to her again. But he was taking this very seriously and she had the feeling that it would really help her, in more ways than one.

"I need to let go of some things that have really been bothering me."

He nodded, accepting this answer without pressing for further details. "Close your eyes, Katara."

They fluttered shut.

For a moment, there was silence, but it wasn't as empty as it had been before. She could feel him thinking. Through their palms, she could feel him gathering and focusing his energy. There was a vital intensity about him in that moment.

"Breath is life and breath is power and breath is your communication with the world. Focus on your breathing. Feel the air flowing in and out of you. It's like—like the tide. There's a rhythm to it, there's a natural balance between your body and the world and that balance is your breath. Find it. Feel it. Don't try to take control of it—let it control you. In, and out. Slow. Steady. Like the tide."

This time, was easy. She could see almost right away what he wanted her to do. Whether due to the steady murmur of his voice washing over her or his energy guiding her, she fell into the slow, calming pattern.

Thinking only about breathing, she was already feeling a little more together, less scattered. For a long time they sat in silence, until he finally lowered his hands to rest on hers, palm to palm. This startled her a little, but she didn't let go enough to falter.

For a moment, a breath, nothing changed. And then she could _see_ his energy flowing slowly through her, bright silver through midnight blue. A gasp escaped her and she almost lost her rhythm but he was there steadying her, lifting her up until she could hold her own again.

"Breathe, Katara. Breathe. It's all right."

A deep shuddering breath. Trusting him completely. There was confusion inside her, and there was chaos, but in the center of all that, calm and steady, was _Aang_. The one thing in her life she'd never questioned or doubted.

She breathed, steady, and said, "You could have warned me."

She could _feel_ his smile. "You would have instinctively closed me out. This is how the monks taught me. Now, breathe."

Obediently, she sank into herself again, and he was there, waiting silently in the center of her thoughts. Everything churning all around him. She could feel her whole self, her _center_ shifting until suddenly, effortlessly, everything was calm. Balanced, where before she had been misaligned. She had been missing her center of gravity. She'd been missing _Aang._

Katara wondered how much of this he was aware of. Suddenly, she knew what she wanted to say to him, and she opened her eyes.

"Now that you've found your balance," he said, still focused, "you need to look inside yourself and try to figure out what it was that disrupted you."

"I already know. I disrupted myself."

He frowned at her in obvious confusion, and said, "Then you need to find out why."

"I know that, too. I did it because I was being a coward."

"Well, then when you know what you were afraid of—"

Softly, she said, "I was afraid of losing my best friend."

He stopped. His hands, lightly touching hers, trembled slightly. A word escaped him, whispered. "Why?"

She swallowed. This was hard for her. She'd never been any good at expressing her feelings in words, and she had already hurt him so much. "I thought that if he didn't know the truth about my feelings, it would be…easier…on us both if he—" She couldn't bring herself to say the word quivering at the edge of her tongue, not after what had happened in Ba Sing Se. "…if he didn't come back. Or if _I_ didn't."

He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but closed it again. Her heart quivered in her throat, and she was choking on it but she _owed_ him this.

"Wouldn't it…" he began after a painfully long silence, "have been better to…to have it while it lasted? In case—_he_—didn't come back? I mean, if you really—if you—" He stopped, unsure. "If he had to go off to fight, don't you think it would have been _easier_ if I—if he hadn't had to deal with—not knowing? Thinking that you didn't—don't—feel the same?" Painful hesitation in his voice.

Tears flowing freely now, voice thick with emotion. "I was wrong. I know that now, I knew it then. I was wrong. That's not easy for me to say, but it's true. I was wrong to say what I did, and I _lied_, Aang, and that makes it even worse."

He opened his eyes and drew back his hands from hers. Breathing very hard, face intense, closed off with some nameless emotion. Dark gray eyes bored into hers.

"You lied."

"Yes."

"About _what_?"

Katara opened her mouth, but found that she didn't have the words. She never had, and that's what got in the way at Ember Island. Words, words, words. Harsh and painful uncertainties uttered in the moonlight, and then he'd gone off alone to face his destiny and she hadn't said any of the right things. Like, _Come back to me_. Like, _I love you_.

She hesitated over it now, uncertain of his feelings. Then she realized that _he_ had been uncertain of _her_ feelings for so long, but that the uncertainty had never held him back from expressing himself when he really wanted to.

Before she lost her courage, before the raging doubt shattered her resolve, she leaned in and kissed him.

For a long, painful moment, there was no response.

Her hands, gripping the front of his robe, began to tremble. But then he reached out to take hold of her shoulders and pulled her closer, and he kissed back with gentle hesitation that had her leaning in to press their lips more firmly together. Relief so strong in her that he wasn't pushing her away, that it wasn't too late, and when he broke away, staring into her eyes with the same relief in his expression. And then his arms were tight around her and he buried his face against her neck and a tremor went through him.

Warm and firm in her arms, his arms tight around her, hot breath feathering out over her neck. Clinging with a desperation born of relief, wondering if he can feel the frantic pounding of her heart the way she could feel his.

But there were things that she _needed_ to say and he needed to hear, loathe as she was to give voice to the guilt and sorrow that had been like a poison in her heart.

"I never meant to hurt you, Aang. I was being selfish and I was afraid and I shouldn't—I didn't—"

His arms tightened around her almost painfully, and he lifted his head to murmur in her ear. "Katara, I forgive you."

That was all it took. The tears she'd fought so hard against slipped out of tightly shut eyelids to slide hotly down her cheeks, and her fingers clenched in his robe. Trying so hard to hold everything together, and failing apart anyway. A strangled sob choked out of her.

"Katara? What's wrong?" He pulled away to look at her. His fingers brushed over her cheeks, wiping away the tears and it was almost enough to send her over the edge again.

"I—I just—" How could it be that easy? How was it right that she'd hurt him so badly, and… "How can you just forgive me like it's the easiest thing in the world?"

"It _is_ the easiest thing in the world to forgive someone you love."

There was such _warmth_ in his smile, such softness in his eyes.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered. "I don't know if anyone could deserve you. You're so—you just have such a—"

"Shhh," he said, and kissed her again, slowly this time, thoroughly, until she was no longer aware of the stone beneath her or the open sky above. There was only Aang, only his mouth on hers and his body, so warm and _right_ on her own. His tongue stroked over her own, claiming her, exploring the recesses of her mouth.

When he finally pulled away she could only stare at him, dazed.

His face was only inches away, and every breath he took was stolen from her. It was an unexpected level of intimacy, and it only made her want to kiss him again. This was everything. This was all she'd ever wanted, to be held close and wanted and _loved_.

"The way I feel about you isn't ever going to change. Katara, you're my foundation. You always have been. I…it sounds cheesy, but I'm lost without you."

She had to swallow a couple of times before her voice was steady enough to speak.

"I've been horrible to you, Aang, I _hurt_ you, when all I really want is—this. Being close to you. Being _with_ you. I thought you hated me. I've been hating myself."

Gray eyes locked onto her own, his warm breath fanning out over her face.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and then he started laughing so hard he fell on his back beside her. At first it only confused her, but when _he didn't _stop Katara wasn't sure if she should be angry or laugh with him.

"I—I'm sorry—" he finally managed. "It's just—" He propped himself up on one elbow, smiling up at her. "We—Katara, we're both such _idiots_."

Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Aang sat up and took her hands in his.

"I thought you hated me, you thought I hated you, when really it was all just because we were being too dumb about everything to actually talk to each other."

Well, when he put it like that… She smiled. "I guess it is kind of ironic."

"So, you—you really want to—be with me? I mean like—" His cheeks flooded with color, but his eyes never wavered from hers. "—like my girlfriend?"

Katara didn't know if so simple a term as _girlfriend_ could really represent everything she wanted with him, but she supposed they had to start somewhere.

"Yes," she said. "I really want that."

* * *

A/N: I felt really bad about how long this chapter was taking me to finish because it was _half-written_ and I still could not seem to get the damned thing _out_. Guilt, shame, anguish. And then I counted up how many pages of notes/miscellaneous scenes I have from further on in this story and for other Kataang stories I intend to write and that's when I realized that even though I'm working over forty hours a week right now, _I wrote over two hundred pages of ATLA fanfiction in about ten days_. O.O

Yeah, the guilt pretty much dissolved after that.

The rest of this time has been spent recuperating my brain from the initial outpouring of Kataang. And I actually wrote an _outline_ for this story, which I _never_ do. So, erm, you've heard this before but hopefully updates will happen faster in the future.

Aang's solo meditation scene was particularly hard to write here, so I'm interested to know what you guys thought about that. :-) Azula's part at the beginning of this chapter is deliberately vague and abstract, so hopefully I didn't lose anyone there. Let me know if I need to clarify anything in particular. And, as always, letting me know if you had a favorite line/scene/whatever is awesomeness for me. Thank you in advance to all those who take the time to review.

To those of you who reviewed last time: h-holy crap! Twenty-six reviews for one chapter? You guys are _so freaking awesome! _Every single one of you. Wow, guys. There aren't really words to tell you how amazing it is that so many people like this story that much. This thing is pretty close to my heart, and it means a _lot_ that other people love this story the same way I do. Hmm…I shall have to devise some sort or reward or something…

Reviews:

Mithendel: Your enthusiasm for this story is a bright spot in my day. :-) I hope I continue to live up to your expectations. Lol, and I'm glad you think this qualifies as 'epic'. I'll have to hold myself to that standard. ;-)

arizony: Getting into her head was a lot harder there, because I never really understood her treatment of Aang in the Ember Island episode. Barring the romantic feelings that it seems obvious she has for him, how could anyone send their friend off to fight a war with parting words like those? That's really the last time those two get any kind of connection before the end and…it seemed really out of character for someone who had previously been so caring and supportive of Aang.

Private LL Church: While Azula escaping may be used a lot, I promise you that if you like this story enough to stick with it, you will see some things that are very…different. :-) Also, there will be much more Kataang romance from here on out.

aang'sbestbuddy: I am _so_ glad that the hardest part to write was your favorite part. That means I succeeded. Katara was _hard_ in that chapter. As I mentioned above in my reply to arizony, I never understood what was going through her mind in the horrible Ember Island episode. So I'm glad I conveyed her emotions properly in regards to that colossal mistake. It was Not Easy. It was the reason that chapter took so long.

Ellz: Thoughtful and heavy, but in a good way. :-) I am so glad you like my style with this, because I knew going in that it would be _heavier_ than the show, and that's actually one of the things I'm going for here. I guess that's why the prologue seems so…visceral. It is intentional, and I'm glad it works for you.

Silver Thunder: _Aside_ from the fact of how incredible it is that one of my favorite ALTA fanfic authors likes my story enough to review it, I'm very happy that you think I struck the right balance between angst and hope. I was worried that the hope part was underplayed and that there might be too much anguish. I love Kataang, and it's hard to torture them like that but necessary for what I'm going for with this thing.

Rhed: Well, there has been some amount of resolution, as they are together now, but this story is _far_ from over. I hope you like the forthcoming chapters as much as you liked the beginning. The rest of this is more romance and less angst.

jemimahrg: Glad you liked it! It's always nice to see the 'faves' count for this go up. :-)

kiss-from-a-rose-71090: Lol, I already had most of the make-up scene written, and your review made me smile because you predicted what would happen. :-) Hope you're satisfied with the way it played out!

Bahamut Slayer: I promise that from here on out there will be plenty of romance to justify the category :-)

Amira Elizabeth: Another of my favorite fanfic writers reviewing my story! *Happiness* I also enjoy Katara-suffering-over-Aang stuff, because after the way she treated him at Ember Island she kind of needs to if she's going to stop taking him for granted. I'm glad the emotion hit home for you, as I'd gone over that chapter so many times it all eventually became empty words to me. It is awesome that you feel I succeeded there. :-)

ATHPluver: Thank you for liking the Toph part :-) I was pretty happy with the way that turned out, and it's good to know someone else appreciated it that much.

damienandjack4ever: Thank you :-)

allymcg777: The injuries being so graphic was deliberate on my part, as I'm writing this whole thing in a much more _heavy_ tone than the show was, so I'm glad that was so well executed. As for Ch1—giggling and squeaking through that much angst? O.O Lol, you are made of sterner stuff than I!

Malevolent Dark Reflection: I really think that as temperamental as she is, and as angry as she is in both Iroh scenes, it would take someone who was smart enough not to push her, and I don't think either of the girls would have been subtle enough.

Katsumara: I have read a lot of stories (and loved them) where Katara is very emotionally mature and articulate in her apology/explanation/confession of love, and I wanted to go in a different direction because after Ember Island, my whole opinion of her changed (not necessarily in a bad way). Her bumbling rebuttal of Aang's request for clarification struck me as very similar to the Cave of Two Lovers episode where Aang is the one who misscommunicates. I realized, _She's not any better at this than he is_.

NLM: Thank you, I'm glad you like my take on the 'holes', and I hope you liked this chapter as well.

eliza731sm: I'm glad you like this story so much :-)

millergirlxx9: Hmm, so you liked all the parts where they ere interacting. :-) I'm glad, those were my favorite parts to write.

Liselle129: Yet another incredible author whose work I greatly admire reviewing this story! I am a little awed – your works are _awesome_. I really think that after waiting three seasons to see Kataang officially happen, it would have been nice to get a little more, erm, meat out of it. We got the kiss, which was great, but…how did we get _to_ the kiss? Sad that they left that out. I'm glad that the emotion came through that strongly! Sometimes I kind of lose perspective on the story when I've worked on it for too long, so it's good to know that was successful. :-)

shadegladexjf: Thank you, I'm glad you love this story! Again, I'm sorry everyone had to wait so long for it.

Pyrometheus: I'm glad you liked her inner voice. That whole part came through pretty clearly for me when I first started writing all this. And the breath-matching thing is something _I've_ always done, so I'm glad that felt natural to you. Also, your compliments are much more _coherent_ when you aren't beta-reading at three in the morning ;-P


	4. Devotion

Recommended Listening: The first couple of scenes were written to _Hot Dog Wolf_ and _Hounds_ from the Wolf's Rain soundtrack. The first part of the _date_ was written to _Kikyo's Theme_ from Inuyasha. The rest of the date consisted of a repeat playlist of: _Into The Night_ by Santana, _Crazy For This Girl_ by Evan and Jaron, and _Simply Being Loved_ by BT. Oh, and _Ring My Bells _by Enrique Iglesias (No one laugh, okay? It's a _good song_). The final scene of this chapter was written to a super awesome song from the Underworld Evolution soundtrack but—get this, guys—_the song does not exist on the Interwebs_. Gasp! D-: But it's _Why Are You Up_ by Bobby Gold.

* * *

A/N: First, It's super late :-( I know. I feel the same way. Real life kicked my ass for a while there.

Second, major props to my poor much-abused beta, Pyrometheous, who has been awesomely patient with me through the process of hacking this chapter out of my brain. You rock, dude :-)

Thirdly, (and I think, most exciting) fanart! Holy crap, you guys are awesome! Shout outs to Team-Megan and StasySolitude on DA for some kickass POF fanart :D ! I set up a section on my profile page and _everyone should go admire the sweet awesomeness_.

* * *

III. Devotion

* * *

"And if you insist on knowing my bliss

I'll tell you this

If you want to know what the reason is

(Because your kiss) your kiss is on my list

(Because your kiss) your kiss is on my list

Because your kiss is on my list of the best things in life."

- _Hall & Oates, Kiss On My List_

_

* * *

_

"Do you know what Iroh wants?"

"Not a clue."

"The note didn't say anything?"

Katara shook her head. "Only to meet him at the Fire Sage's Temple."

Walking with her brother down the long, winding path to the temple. Bright blue sky above, blindingly hot sun, heat lifting in shimmering waves from the stone walkway.

"Are you going to tell me what happened after you left the party last night, or do I have to guess?"

Pink tinged her cheeks, and she bit off a smile, blinking up into his eyes. "You mean your brother's intuition has failed you at last?"

He snorted, nudging her off balance with his shoulder. She stumbled a little, then nudged back with equal force. Sokka grinned down at her, then poked her cheek. "You still haven't stopped smiling."

Katara swatted his hand away, the color in her cheeks intensifying. She tried to glare at him but failed because she couldn't suppress the smile. Instead, she threw back her head and _laughed_, then caught his hands in hers and pulled him into a spinning kind of dance. Sokka couldn't help but laugh with her.

She released him, staggered a little, and caught her balance on the railing. She looked at him over her shoulder, blue eyes as bright as the summer sky.

"Boost me up."

He lifted her, holding onto her waist while she wobbled upright and found her balance, keeping his arm up so she could hold his hand to keep herself steady. Above him, her hair stirring faintly in the wind, she was a stark outline against the sky. His sister, barefoot, balancing on the railing, sweaty hand clutching his. Her sandals dangled from his free hand.

"I'm glad you worked things out," he said after a while. Nearness of silence, pierced by crying gulls and far-off city life. He did not have to specify what he meant. There was only one reason she would be so giddy.

Katara smiled again, eyes crinkling, teeth white in the sunlight. "So am I."

The brightness in her eyes, the unquenchable smile, the way she still hadn't stopped humming under her breath. "You know, I never would have guessed."

His sarcasm went unheard.

"It's—it's just so—" A sigh, and he wouldn't have believed it possible but her smile got even wider. "I never knew it could feel like this." A sidelong glance down at him, perhaps gauging his reaction. "Being in love, I mean."

A snort. "I thought you figured that out after Ba Sing Se."

Not long ago, even mentioning the name of the city would have had her in a foul mood for hours. Now she just shook her head and elaborated her point.

"Well. Kind of, I guess. I mean, I knew I loved him then."

"But now you know he loves you back."

A shy nod, and she took her eyes off of her feet to focus her gaze on the horizon. There was something in her expression, some measure of maturity that he'd seen growing in her since they'd first found Aang. She had found her center, and she knew it.

There weren't words for how happy he was for her, how proud he was of his little sister. Not so little any more.

"Are you going to talk to Dad?"

Her smile faded, and she looked down at her feet again. There was a momentary reprieve from the searing sun as a cloudbank drifts over it. She was silent for a while, thinking. "I don't know," she said at last, looking out towards the sea. She glanced down at him, uncertainty in her eyes. "Do you think I should?" And then, immediately on the heels of that, "Have you talked to him about Suki?"

Sokka winced. He was hoping she wouldn't ask about Suki.

"It's different," he said.

A sigh. "Because you're older. And a boy."

He bit his lip and then told her the truth. "Because I'm not going to marry Suki."

Sharp blue eyes beneath raised brows. She waited.

"We don't want the same things," he said after a while.

"You've talked about it?"

He hesitated again, biting his lips. Her eyes widened. "Sokka—"

"Look, I—can we change the subject? I'm not—ready to go into this yet, okay?"

That look was back in her eyes, the one that made her look more like a mother than a sister. Speculative, concerned. Weighing him in her gaze, and at last sighing.

"Sure. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Just know that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know."

Katara smiled.

_I'm here when you need me_.

After a while, she said, "I'm glad you're okay with it. Me and Aang, I mean."

"Katara, I haven't seen you this happy since—well. Since before Mom died. Of _course_ I'm okay with it."

Silence fell between them again, and Sokka glanced out at the horizon line, ocean and sky an equal shade of blue. Hovering gulls, only a few wisps of cloud. Vast and limitless, the world stretched out in unending blue. The air was heavy with the smell of sea salt and the echoing cries of the gulls. The sweat rolled down his back. Katara's hand was slick in his, tightly gripping, and the sound of waves far-off and rhythmic was a lullaby from his childhood.

The future stretching out, taut and endless, the possibilities that lay before him.

And Sokka had no idea what he wanted.

Well, maybe that wasn't _entirely_ true. He knew, at the very least, that he wanted to explore more of the world, he wanted — well. He wanted what he'd had the past year, since leaving the South Pole. He wanted a job, a goal, a _mission_ that would take him around the world, and he didn't want to be alone for it.

Speaking of which—

"Did Aang tell you he intends to hunt Azula down by himself?"

She whirled on him, blue eyes flashing. "Azula _escaped?_" He winced at the shrill tone of her voice.

Guess not.

"She blew up the facility they were holding her in. Zuko said they aren't sure _how_ she did it yet, but—"

"Azula is free? Why aren't we looking for her? Somebody needs to—"

He tightened his grip on her hand and she stopped. "Katara, someone is doing something. There's a—a kind of elite group of Fire Nation soldier monks. The Sons of Agni, they're called. From what Zuko said they sound a lot like the Dai Li."

"But—Sokka, this is _Azula_ we're talking about. How can we be sure that they'll be strong enough to get her under control?"

He said, "Because Combustion Man was once part of their sect."

She thought about this for a moment, and then smiled, slow and fierce, a predatory expression. "You know, there's something really _appealing_ about the idea of an entire force of Combustion Men hunting Azula down."

Watching her carefully, he said, "Aang still insists on leaving after Zuko's coronation to go after her by himself, if the Sons of Agni haven't found her by then."

Katara's eyes narrowed, but nothing else about her expression changed. "Mmm. We'll see about that."

They were met at the temple doors by an acolyte who bid Sokka to remove his boots. Katara, already barefoot, waited while he added both pairs of footwear to the heap by the gate. They were led into the temple which smelled heavily of incense and scented prayer candles. The scuffle of their feet seemed loud over the hushed voices and muted chimes, the far-off sound of chanting. They walked over clean stone in bare feet through the hallowed halls of the Fire Nation. Sokka felt alien in Water Tribe blue amidst all the blood red and sun gold, and judging by the fact that Katara still had hold of his hand, she felt the same. The acolyte led them through the prayer room, kneeling figures with bowed heads in simple robes, dust motes drifting through bright beams of light. Not a head lifted in curiosity, not a voice faltered.

Through the little door beside the altar and into a hallway that is open on one side, the view is much the same as the one from the path up here, a stretch of rocky mountain sloping down to the wide blue of the sea. Leaning on the railing was the oldest looking man Sokka had ever seen.. The acolyte stopped and bowed low over his hands in front of the elderly sage.

"Sage Okai, may I present Master Katara, and Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe."

Katara stepped forward and carefully copied the acolyte's bow. "It is our pleasure, Sage Okai."

Thin hair that was bleached of color, eyes a milky shade of amber. His robes were a vibrant shade of crimson, bright like heart's blood. He trembled just standing there, stooped over, leaning on the railing and a curved, dark cane for support.

"Master Katara," the sage said, and his voice was a deep and steady baritone. "It is _my_ pleasure, young one. Iroh will not be able to join us this morning, and he sends his regrets. Did he tell you what it was he thought you might assist us with?"

She blinked at him in confusion. "Assist you? No, I'm sorry, I have no idea, but I'd be glad to do anything I can to help."

"It's actually a matter that would be of mutual benefit to the both of us." He slid away from the railing, leaning his whole weight onto the cane. "Walk with me, child."

They made their slow way back through the prayer rooms. Everyone they met stopped and bowed to the sage, not straightening up until they'd gone on. Once they'd emerged into an open courtyard and left the sacred rooms behind them, the sage spoke up again.

"Iroh told me of your healing ability, and that you wish for the opportunity to hone this ability?" When she nodded, he continued, gesturing at the building they were walking towards across the courtyard. "The Fire Temple runs a hospital for the citizens of our nation. We have great success, but someone of your talents would be invaluable." He turned to look at her as they stepped inside the building. "That is, if you are interested?"

"Of course! I would love to."

Sage Okai smiled at her as if he had expected no other answer. "Please, this way."

The sharp scent of herbs overrode the scent of incense in this part of the temple, and the sages here wore yellow and black robes instead of the red and golden colors of the main temple. They stopped in a well-lit room lined with shelves that held an alchemist's assortment of oddly shaped jars and bottles, flowering plants in small pots, the skeletons of various animals, as well as row upon row of books and scrolls. A young woman sat at a desk at the room's entrance, and she stood when they entered and bowed to the sage.

They followed Okai into the first aisle of shelves, lined with stacks of parchment, books, and scrolls. The sage traced trembling fingers along the row of scrolls, brushing his fingertips over the ends of the wooden rollers, butterfly-light, pulling down three and hesitating over a fourth before removing it as well.

He shuffled back to them and held out his arms. "We do not have the healing arts of the Water Tribes," he said, quietly, almost apologetically as Sokka took the scrolls with care, "but we have great knowledge of the inner working of the body and have developed advanced medical techniques that I think you will find quite interesting."

Katara hesitated, then reached out and tentatively touched the sleeve of his robe. She needed to know. Clear blue eyes searched clouded amber. "Why are you helping me like this?"

Sage Okai smiled, and his trembling fingers closed warm over her hand.

"We cannot restore the lives lost or the suffering caused…but what better way to heal the wounds between our nations than to share our healing arts with a Waterbender?"

* * *

With Katara on the ground for the walk back instead of the railing, the trip went much quicker. They found Aang and Zuko waiting in the shade of the breezeway leading to the inner depths of the palace.

Aang grinned when he saw her, and Katara felt her face heating up. He took a couple of steps towards her, then stopped.

"Hi," he said.

She cleared her throat. "Hi."

Beside her, Sokka snorted, and when she glared at him he quirked his mouth in a half-smile, shaking his head, and moved off a little ways to walk with Zuko, giving them a measure of privacy.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself, thinking about how stupid it was to be nervous, this was _just Aang_—

(Oh, honey who are you kidding? _Just_ Aang?)

—and she slipped her hand into his, entwining their fingers. They fell in step together, walking slowly.

"I kind of missed you," he said. "A little. Maybe."

Was this really _Aang_ teasing _her? _And, gods help her, _why was it working?_

He smiled up at her, slow and warm, gray eyes dancing. Her heart jumped in her chest.

"I'm really happy that you decided to find me last night."

She cleared her throat and spoke past the nerves fluttering there. Why couldn't she stop _blushing_? "So am I, Aang."

His fingers tightened around hers.

"I know you're busy with, well, being the Avatar but—is there any free time in your near future that you might could spend with your girlfriend?"

Katara said it loftily, light and teasing. Aang grimaced.

"Um, I guess it depends on what you mean by 'near future', because—well—"

"You're busy." She tried, and failed, to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Aang sighed heavily, then smiled ruefully up at her. "The downside of dating the Avatar is that you have to share him with the world."

This brought a laugh out of her, albeit a reluctant one.

Katara wished they could spend the day together, maybe practice Waterbending—or, at least, pretend to—maybe wander around the town or the palace, maybe find a quiet, soft grassy place to lay side by side and watch the clouds. When they rounded the final corner in the final stretch of hallway to see Zuko and Sokka waiting near the door to the war room at the far end, Aang sighed, and she realized he must be thinking the same thing.

She suddenly _really_ wanted Zuko and Sokka somewhere else. This relationship was so new, everything was still so _different._ She didn't want to say goodbye to Aang in front of witnesses. Hugging him in front of her brother, _kissing_ him—color flared in her cheeks—she would just have to get used to it.

Aang had one brow quirked as if in question, and he still had hold of her hand but he'd stepped back a bit, as if sensing that she was uncomfortable. Katara could feel the blood hot in her face, prickling her skin, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. It didn't work, but she stepped forward anyway, before she could change her mind, and wrapped her arms tight around his waist. Aang didn't resist at all, resting his cheek on her shoulder and, after a moment, nuzzled against her neck. Her arms tightened around him.

She _loved_ hugging him.

She always had. It was something about the way he fit against her, the weight of his head on her shoulder, the slight pressure of his body leaning into hers, something about the way he _smelled_, maybe, the way she could feel the rapid-steady beat of his heart that had her slowing down her breathing and closing her eyes, snuggling just a little closer.

She could stay this way, forever, just holding her best friend, who just happened to be the Avatar, who she just happened to be in love with. They parted reluctantly, he walked away with Zuko, and the doors closed behind him. She was left standing with Sokka in the empty hallway.

* * *

The downside of dating the Avatar is that you have to share him with the world.

Aang had always known this, and he'd thought he'd prepared himself. But when it came down to the reality of it, in the intervening weeks between their make-up and Zuko's impending coronation, they saw very little of each other. He was whisked away to meetings, politics, diplomacy, until Katara threatened to kidnap him for a day of relaxation.

The schedule was grueling, and Zuko was also showing signs of wear. Aang had to keep reminding himself — this was the price of peace, and being the Avatar was a responsibility that he would never again try to escape.

In a rare moment of peace, because the representative from the colonies who was supposed to be speaking to them today had missed his boat and thus missed the meeting, the whole group lounged in one of Zuko's gardens, sprawled out beneath the shading-to-autumn trees.

Aang lay with his head on Katara's lap and his arms wrapped around her waist. He was dangerously close to falling asleep, letting the contentment of the moment seep into his soul. Weariness fading into the warmth of Katara's legs beneath his head, the scent of her, oceanic and floral, faint on the slight stirring of the autumn air. The heat overrode it, and the strong smell of the apple trees. It was, really, the closest they had been to each other since the day after their reconciliation, when she'd hugged him outside of the war room.

She had one hand resting lightly on his face, cupping his cheek, and she stroked her thumb slowly, back and forth, over his cheekbone.

From somewhere off to the left, Sokka's voice. He reclined against the tree and Suki sat comfortably between his legs, leaning back against his chest.

"So—what's the word on Azula?"

Zuko groaned and dropped his face into his hands. His voice emerged muffled by his fingers. "There is no word on Azula. She dropped of the face of the world."

"I thought these Sons of Agni were supposed to be the best," Sokka said, not quite a question.

"They _are_," Zuko replied quietly. "But so is she." He sat up, grimacing, and adjusted until he is sitting with his back to the tree, his head leaned against the bark. "They've caught most of them, Sokka. I have a list... Somewhere."

Zuko's voice was flat and heavy, weary, devoid of any spark or zest for life. Aang drifted on the edge of sleep, and smiled, as tired as he was. All of the boring, frustrating political dancing and the two-faced diplomats and the lying ministers—all of the long hours spent sitting lotus-position on hard marble floor or upright and rigid in wooden chairs carved from some rare, dead tree—all of the backwards talk and the sun-up to sun-down _work_…

Katara's fingers drift over his face, soft and a little hesitant, tracing his smile. He could feel her body moving with every breath she took and he thought about telling her, maybe, that she made a _great_ pillow.

This is what it was all for.

The conversation drifted above him, muffled and distant and nowhere near as important as the feeling of those soft fingers moving oh so gently over the lines of his arrow. The world tilted, gravity gaining force, as everything blurred from utter exhaustion into the blissful border country of _sleep_.

"What about Firebending practice?" Toph's voice this time, swimming out of auditory focus.

Zuko laughed, a strange sound of bitterness, weariness, and genuine humor. "You must be joking."

_Zuko needs a girlfriend pillow, too_. _Maybe then he'd be able to relax_.

"Zuko," Katara said. He grunted in response. "Come here," she said, and patted the ground next to her. Aang's eyes opened, met the upside-down amused expression Katara turned on him. She quirked one brow at him.

_Jealous much?_

He grinned at her.

Oblivious to this exchange, Zuko shifted over to sit beside them with a groan of protest. "Okay," he said. "What do you want."

Katara closed her eyes, brows narrowing in concentration. Aang could feel her breathing deepen. Her fists clenched, relaxed, clenched, relaxed again—and then she slowly drew her hands apart. Water, drawn out of the humid nearly-autumn air, shimmered between her palms.

She placed one hand over Aang's forehead and the other flattened over Zuko's hand on the ground. After a moment, her breathing slowed even more and the water around her hands began to glow faintly.

There was no sudden rush of energy, no abrupt change at all in the exhaustion that had seeped into his bones, but the muscle aches and the persistent headache slowly began to fade. This time, teetering on the edge of sleep, Aang consciously matched his breathing to hers, slowing down his body's rhythm until they were in perfect sync. The wind rustled through the leaves of the apple tree, worlds away, but here and now was only peace.

* * *

Hours later, when the garden was flooded with shades of sunset, the servants woke them, apologetically, gently shaking shoulders and speaking in soft voices. Katara's eyelids were heavy and her limbs were stiff. Aang was awake, peering up at her through her fingers, spread out over his face. Zuko stood in the arch leading into the palace, speaking quietly to his uncle and Mai, and Toph was curled up in a drift of leaves, clutching Momo. Of Katara's brother and Suki there was no sign.

Gray eyes, smiling up at her, and that was all it took to start her heart fluttering in her chest.

He was working himself into the ground, fighting for peace with diplomacy and politics in place of bending and swords. Aang took his responsibilities very, very seriously. He was the Avatar, after all, and he had spent a hundred years sleeping in ice while the world fell apart without him. He would spend the rest of his life trying to rectify that mistake, and she will spend the rest of hers supporting him in any way she can.

Even if it meant protecting him from himself.

"You need a break."

He opened his mouth, protesting, and was interrupted with a yawn instead. Katara tilted her head, smirking, and Aang waved his hands in surrender. He still hadn't made any move at all to get up.

"All right, all right. You win."

He let his hands fall to his sides and she grabbed one, interlacing their fingers. He'd just slept for a couple of hours with his head in her lap, he was _still_ laying on her, but this simple contact, the pressure of his hand closing around hers, was all it took and there were butterflies dancing in her stomach. Aang smiled at her, slow and shy.

"Good," she said. "It would be nice to spend some time with my boyfriend."

Something flashed in his eyes, and his smile widened. "You know, I think I might be able to do something about that."

* * *

Finding the rebellion had been the easy part. Azula had never in her life had any problem _finding_ trouble. The hard part, the part that shook her to her core, was the high-wire balance act she maintained within herself, the constant war, the battle to keep the edges of the world aligned. Fighting to _function_.

These days, it seemed, she fought even herself. Trying to hold on to the mask that she'd worn for so long, trying to _force it_.

They knew. She could feel it. She could smell the weight of this knowledge on them. They lied to her face, as they always had, these men of her father's, and they used her name to fuel their secret rebellion _but they knew_. They gave her a room with a view of the ocean, they gave her fine wines and they tipped conspirator smiles as if sharing the secret, but she was afraid that the only secret shared was her own.

_Broken_.

Alone in her room, having fled the white teeth and the yellow eyes, she tried to breathe she tried to hold herself together. Confronted with the face in the mirror, and the wildness wells up inside of her, golden eyes narrow, teeth bared, breathing harshly, swallowing down the bitter bile welling up in her throat. Fists curl, nails bite into palms. Rage welling up inside of her, storm-surge of fury.

_Hold it. Wait for it. _Use_ it. You are stronger than you know._

This was a familiar mantra, seeking assurance from the _only_ person in her life who had always been there: herself.

_You are braver than you believe, stronger than you know, and smarter than they think. You can do this. You can do this_.

A deep breath, coming back to herself, drenched in sweat, and the room was almost completely dark now, how long had she been just…standing there? The muscles in her jaw twitched, teeth clenched to the point of pain. Body stiff from holding such tension in an immobile state for so long.

She released her breath and relaxed the muscles in her body, blinking around at the room. She closed the shutters and sat on the bed, glancing up to catch the eyes of her reflection.

_Be the mask, be the mountain, be the strength you seek. They never have to know how scared you really are._

A sigh, a shudder. The perfectly sculpted face looked back at her, impassive, uncaring. Cold and distant and _strong_.

She draped a blanket over the mirror so she wouldn't have to look at it anymore, and then she lit a candle against the darkness and curled up alone in the center of the bed and slept.

* * *

Arranging for a night off this close to Zuko's coronation turned out to be more difficult than Aang had first imagined, and in the end he had to agree to a late-night meeting with Zuko to catch on everything he would miss on his date with Katara. He was prioritizing, because she asked him to. Surprising her with a night in the city, the last night of the festival celebrating the end of summer.

(He had asked Sokka, _What do people usually do on dates? _In complete innocence, and Sokka choked on his water, sputtering, and then sighed and softened and explained what he thought would be a good start).

The streets were lined with golden orb-lanterns, and overhead, against the night sky, passed swarms of golden fireflies that are as big as watermelons. They fattened themselves on the apples, the last harvest of the end of summer, and they gathered inland before heading out over the ocean to mate and die and return as eggs that will wash up on the beach and begin the cycle all over again at the birth of spring.

Taking her out to dinner in the city was part of Sokka's idea, but Zuko had recommended the restaurant. Aang stood on the curb outside, waiting for her, face tilted to the sky, watching the fireflies and so he didn't see her until she had stepped up beside him and taken his hand, tilting her head back to look with him.

Katara had her hair in a loose knot and wore a blue summer dress with simple silver embroidery. She blushed when he leans in to kiss her cheek.

They were led to a table outside beneath the pavilion that extended from the back of the restaurant. Low roof, laced with flowering vines, looking out on a rock garden and a large koi pond. Quiet music from the street, the low murmur of other diners, the burble of water over rocks.

Katara sat across from him, feeling a strange self-consciousness. She didn't know where to put her hands. Flat on the table, fidgeting with the chopsticks and napkin, and then in her lap, tugging at the folds of her dress. Heart beating too fast, fluttering in the back of her throat. No appetite at all. Way too nervous to even consider food.

Aang watched her with his head tilted to one side, a faint smile on his mouth. She finally glanced up and noticed and when color flooded her cheeks he _laughed_ at her.

"You're nervous," he said, clearly amused.

"Well, I—" How was she supposed to explain it? "I—just…I've never…been on a date before."

Aang shrugged. "Me neither. So what?"

He was impossible. "So—so, it's just a little strange, is all. Don't you think? I mean—you're my best friend. And now I'm…_dating_ you."

He grinned at her. His eyes were very bright. "Yeah. I know." His tone said, _Isn't it great?_

And it was, but it was all so new and so different and she didn't quite know what to think about it yet. The way he was looking at her, the crooked smile and self-assurance, the ease and relaxation—this was what she'd wanted for him, but she'd forgotten about herself, and now she realized that she was completely unprepared for this.

"The truth is," she said, sliding the chopsticks in a circle around the napkin. "I—never really thought about the _dating_ part. I mean—" Aang had the strangest expression in his eyes, and she rushed on to clarify. "I thought about being together but I guess I was thinking of the future."

His eyes widened at that, candlelight shimmering in the gray depths. "Um. The future? You mean, like—" He stopped.

Katara couldn't really meet his eyes. Her cheeks burned. _How am I so bad at this?_ "I just mean that I whenever I thought about—us—I always kind of pictured us already _together_. I guess I never really thought about the _getting there_ part."

"Oh."

She wasn't really sure what that meant, what depths were held in that one word. He looked—surprised? Disappointed? Confused?

They were saved by the waiter, swooping in with salads and menus and beverage choices. She watched Aang talk to him, discussing meatless dishes, and she tried again to get her thoughts in order. It was hard because, well—

This was _Aang_. He was the Avatar, and her best friend. She'd known she loves him for so long now, and she'd almost ruined everything and for a while there she'd thought that maybe they didn't have a future after all but sitting here, in a _Fire Nation_ restaurant, on a _date_ with her best friend… The moment was surreal but at the same time there was a kind of quivering _lightness_ in her belly, a strange warmth in her heart and she realized that as weird as the situation might be, she _wanted_ this; the whole awkward strangeness of falling in love with him, getting to know him all over again.

Katara looked up from her fingers, twisting her napkin into an unusable mess. Aang had the strangest expression on his face, a faint smile and such brightness in his eyes.

"We've been together for a couple of weeks now…and you're just now realizing all of this?"

Yes, actually.

"Well, this is…_different_."

"Because we're in public?"

"No, it's—I…" She trailed off, unsure. How was she supposed to explain it to him when she didn't really understand it herself?

Staring off into the distance, her voice was a little wistful. "Everything's going to be different from now on, isn't it?"

He tilted his chin down, and his smile changed, his whole demeanor shifting in some subtle way that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Well," he said, "not really. I mean, how much needs to change? I just get to kiss you for real now."

Her cheeks heated up, and there was something wicked in his grin.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know you're serious about this. I just like teasing you."

Katara wished it weren't so easy.

She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of things this way, wasn't used to the thought that _Aang_ should be able to throw her off balance, but…well, in all fairness, she'd been doing it to him for so long now that she supposed she owed him a little.

He reached out across the table, leaning forward to take her hand. Katara met his eyes as he laced their fingers together. The candlelight between them was a bright contrast to the shadows around them.

"What I mean," he said quietly, "is that I never thought of being your best friend and being your—boyfriend—as incompatible."

And this was why she loved him.

After dinner, they wandered the crowded streets for a while. Aang bought a silver flower that matched the highlights in her dress, and stood beside her so close she could feel his warmth, and he tucked it carefully into her hair. He gradually steered them to a specific stall that he'd found earlier in the evening.

Katara was not a conventional girl, and they were not a conventional couple, and she had never been one for frivolities. He has always known this about her—she was his best friend, after all, so what could he buy her to show her how he felt? At the very least, to show her that he knew her and cared about her and wanted to make her happy, he wanted to see that shy smile focused on _him._

"Tell me a secret about you, Aang. Something I don't know."

He swallowed, his fingers tightening around hers. "Um, a secret?"

Katara tilted her head to one side, a half-smile of amusement curving her mouth.

Aang took a deep breath, steadying himself. "A secret. Um. Okay. At the North Pole, when we were training with Master Pakku? I, um, kind of…flubbed my training on purpose. So you could teach me."

He had kind of thought that she'd already guessed this, but judging by her reaction she'd had no idea.

"You—you—_what?_"

Aang hadn't thought he'd be this embarrassed about it, either. He took a deep breath, and just went for it. "Well, you see, I kind of maybe had a crush on you."

He wondered if she was aware that the expression she wore was one he'd seen on Sokka often: mouth quirked to one side in reluctant amusement, one brow lifted as if in disbelief.

"Kind of maybe," she said, and her smile tilted a little more.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Kind of maybe. So, I thought, what better way to spend time around a girl I kind-of-maybe-like than splashing around in our underwear while she teaches me to Waterbend?"

Oh gods, he would _never_ get tired of making her blush like that.

Aware that he couldn't stop grinning, ignoring her half-hearted sputtering protests, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her skin was very smooth and warm under his lips and he wanted to stay close to her, maybe kiss her for real, but he leaned away again.

"That isn't—"

"Fair?" he interrupted, and Katara turned to look at him like she'd never really seen him before. He couldn't help laughing at her, which only served to throw her further off balance. "Come on, Katara, be honest. You've been doing stuff like that to me since—"

Aang stopped in sudden realization, and it was her turn to smirk.

"—since I pulled you out of the iceberg?" she said quietly. And then she leaned in, deliberate and slow, mouth close to his ear and her breath was warm over his skin and her voice was a low purr that he at first couldn't even translate, not with how close she was, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. "You never thought that it was possible that Ikind-of-maybe liked you too?"

He watched her with narrowed eyes. She was blushing again, but faintly, and her hand was tight in his. "I—" he said. "But you—"

Katara took a deep breath and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "You have to think about it, Aang. Before you, there was just a bunch of kids, me, and Sokka."

He thought about it. "Oh."

Her blush was intensifying a bit under his scrutiny. "And," she went on, "I'd kind of always dreamed about finding the Avatar."

"_Oh_."

Katara blew out another breath, unable to look at him. Her cheeks were very bright and there were golden sparks from the lanterns reflected in the blue center of her eyes. "So when I found you—when we found out about you—I guess you could say I was…_predisposed_ to kind-of-maybe like you." This came out in a rush, and then she looked at him sidelong, smiling a little, and added, "Maybe. A little."

Aang had no idea what to say to this. He wondered if she knew what this information meant to him. That there had been a spark there the whole time, that he _hadn't_ imagined it. That every time she'd touched his hand or hugged him or kissed him, every little glance that had sent his heart skipping—she'd felt the same.

She was _really_ going to love this present.

Leading her across the street, holding tightly to her hand as they wove through musicians and food vendors, drums beating while the scent of roasted peppers filled the air. He pulled her to a stop beside the little market stall, tables crowded with miscellaneous junk, old instruments and cooking pots and scarves, seashells and exotic feathers, scrolls and knives and low-end jewels. Aang took both of her hands and tugged her a little closer so that she was under the awning and out of the worst of the crowd.

He looked into her eyes, tilting his head a little in order to do so—he _hated_ not being taller—he said, "I found something for you, earlier. It's not much but—"

Breaking off, he turned to where the vendor was waiting behind them, smiling and holding out a little brown wrapped package. The old woman bowed and the Avatar returned the gesture, before turning back to Katara and holding out the present. It was the work of only a moment to tug apart the twine and pull aside the wrinkled paper—and then she laughed out loud in pure delight.

"A penguin! Aang, you—I—" Holding the carved, wooden figurine in one hand, blue eyes dancing, Katara leaned in and kissed him, free hand curving around his neck. "Thank you." Her voice was soft.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I can hold it for you, if you want. I don't think your dress has pockets." There was something in her eyes as she passed over the little statue, some spark he couldn't quite define.

There was the music in the street, an upbeat Fire Nation tune, passionate and fast. Before he realized her intentions, she caught his hands in hers and pulled him into the throng, smiling just for him, (_this is the Fire Nation you remember_) like there was no one else in the _world,_ and in the crowded streets, with fireflies migrating like golden stars across the night sky, they danced.

Aang had dreamed this, he had spent so many nights picturing that smile, thinking of her thinking of him, imagining the warm pressure of her hand in his, the chime of her laughter and the way the firelight shimmers in her eyes. Her hair was in a loose knot at the back of her head, held in place with Iroh's hair sticks, two strands hanging down past her face. Wearing a summer dress in Water Tribe blue. She smiled only for him, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Katara moved with him, following the unspoken cues, and their movements opened up a small space in the press of people. Her hands tight in his, the press of her hips against his, golden firelight flickering in her eyes, colored like indigo, like the ocean at midnight. He spun her, and she leaned back, completely trusting, the weight of her in his arms, those eyes staring up into the sky and her throaty laughter sent shivers down his spine.

They danced with a wild abandon in the middle of everybody, and there was something in the slant of her eyes, the curve of her mouth, the sway of her hips, that had his pulse racing and his nerves on edge. There was something almost dangerous glinting in her blue eyes, in the tightening of her fingers around his.

(_because she's not playing anymore_)

At the end of the dance, she was in his arms, chest heaving for breath. A kiss, warm and hesitant like their first (_love is brightest in the dark_) and she lingered, close, stealing his breath. There was applause, worlds away there were whistles and raised voices, but here and now was only _Katara_, hot hands holding his face, bright blue eyes half-lidded, hips pressed lightly to his. She smelled incredible, like sea-salt and flowers, and her nearness was making his head spin.

Did she know how dangerous it was, for gravity to shift like this for an Airbender?

The breath shuddered out of him, and he leaned in again to capture her mouth with his. Part of this was uncertainty — surely she didn't taste _that_ good, surely a mere _kiss_ couldn't make the world fade away like this, warm darkness descending like a fog in his brain. But her lips were soft and pliant and she tasted like nothing he'd ever experienced. Her hands framing his face trembled a little, and she was making these hungry little noises in the back of her throat, her whole body plastered up against him. He had one hand on her hip and one on the back of her shoulders, pulling her as close as was physically possible, pressing her against him in all the right places.

This time when they finally broke away from each other, neither one of them could breathe and he was simultaneously glad for the crowd because it means people were watching and so this had to stop, here and now, and also frustrated, for the same reasons. Her eyes were dark, her breath was fast and unsteady, and she had her whole weight leaning on him, like she couldn't even stand on her own two feet.

_I did that, my kiss did that to her. _The knowledge of this was more awesome than he could put into words. He grinned at her, and she managed a shaky little laugh.

"Aang, you—"

"_Kuzon?_"

There was such a strange mix of speculation and confidence in the voice, and he turned, reluctantly separating from Katara to do so.

Onji stood there at the edge of the crowd, just as he remembered her, even wearing the school uniform. She looked confused and yet she seemed triumphant at having recognized him.

There wasn't much blood in his brain, Katara's fingers were deeply entwined with his and he was breathless, still, and so aware of her, his senses so acutely tuned in to the sound of her breath, the warmth of her skin, sweat glistening in the bright golden lantern light. Off-balance and confused.

"Um, Onji?"

The girl's eyes lit up, and she spun around to shout across the street to the boys from the Fire Nation School huddled there. "See? It _is_ him, I told you!"

Katara made a noise that was half-snort and half-laughter. Aang turned back to her with one brow raised in question. "Twinkletoes," she said, and this time he laughed with her.

They all sat together at a table on the sidewalk, the boys' questions starting out slow and faltering but curiosity gradually got the better of them and they loosened up. Onji must have seen the whole show of dance and kiss, but the girl still made a point of glancing at their joined hands, then meeting Katara's eyes, and Katara smiled at her, tightening her fingers around Aang's.

_Mine_.

Katara didn't really participate in the conversation but watched Aang, watched the odd combination of distance and eagerness, of awkwardness and constraint and _yearning_ in his eyes. They weren't sure what to make of him, how far to trust him, and it hurt to see him like this.

Katara wondered if this is what it had been like, all those years ago in the Southern Air Temple, when the friends he'd relied on had suddenly shut him out, and for a reason beyond his control. Watching him now, the subtle tense line of his jaw, the detached brightness in his eyes, she knew that yes, this is exactly how it was. How it _always_ was—Avatar always came first. This unasked-for, born-into weight of _duty_. He must've thought that it would fade, that with time, they would see through the title, see past the mantle of destiny, and find Aang waiting, ready to forgive all rejection, ready to be _normal_ again.

Katara had never thought of being friends and being together as incompatible either, because she hadn't really thought about it at all. But this is what they were, best friends and in love and as strange as the concept may have been at first there was nothing she wanted more, and nothing he _needed_ more.

Katara slid her hand along his arm until she caught his hand and entwined their fingers. Aang didn't break off his conversation, didn't even falter, but moved his other hand over to cover hers and she leaned in to rest her forehead against his shoulder, scooting a little closer.

On the walk back to the palace, following the long and winding path up the side of the mountain. The golden glow of the city below them, the silver stars above, fireworks breaking in rainbow explosions against a black velvet sky.

She doesn't deserve him. She'd _hurt_ him, she'd broken his heart, and although he'd forgiven her and granted her a second chance, she didn't feel like she deserved it. How could she ever be good enough for him? And yet even as Katara thought this, Aang turned toward her and smiled at her, slow and shy, gently taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

Katara didn't have to hear him say the words. It was clear in the way he looked at her, soft and a little shy, a little hesitant, clear in the warmth in his eyes, the _need_ and vulnerability she saw there. She'd have given _anything_ to go back and change that night, to tell him the truth. _Aang, I love you_.

Watching him, staring openly at him while he looked out at the city, face shadowed in starlight and fireworks, a depth of maturity weighing on him. Katara makes a silent vow to herself: she will never, never again hold anything back from him.

How could she ever forgive herself for wavering when he'd needed her most? She would give him everything, she would _be_ everything he needed, she would be what he'd always longed for and she would not let _anything_ hurt him again.

The truth of this sank into her like a stone through water, ripples spreading outward. The _rightness_ of it settling into her soul. A measure of peace spread through her, as if she hadn't really been connected to the world before. Tethered, now, connected to this young man beside her, who was beginning to look at her with some concern. Katara could only guess at what he might be reading in her expression. She felt so _intent_, sure of herself and her place in life with an absolute solidity that'd never been there before.

His destiny may have been to protect the world, but her destiny was to protect him.

Katara stopped, and Aang looked at her with one brow raised, opening his mouth to ask her what was wrong, when she leaned forward and took his face in her hands, tilting her head downward and kissing him. Slowly, thoroughly. Trying to show him with her body what she knew she'd never be able to put into words.

_I will never let you go_.

When she finally broke away, Aang stared at her, eyes wild, struggling a little for breath. His hands hung loosely at his sides. She stroked her fingers over his cheeks, his lips, running her hands down his chest and drawing a shudder from him. Stepping closer and pulling him into her embrace, closing her eyes and holding on as tight as she could. His arms wound around her waist and he rested his head on her shoulder. Stroking one hand lightly over the back of his head, the other curved around his shoulders. Warm and firm and close and _Aang_, the scent of him like summer sunlight, his breath fanning out over her throat. Her heart swelling with emotion until she had to blink back tears.

(_Whatever you need, that's what I'll be_)

Holding him snug against her, a realization:

"Have I ever told you that I like being taller than you?"

Aang pulled away to look at her, wide gray eyes full of incredulity. "Really? I thought—" He broke off, then said, "_Why_?"

Katara tugged him back into her arms, pressing his head to her shoulder, pressing her cheek to his. He burrowed against her, snuggling even closer. A sigh, contentment, and his whole body relaxed into hers.

"Because you fit good," she murmured into his ear.

* * *

Hama walked within the darkness, she kept a smile on her face, and as she moved through the crowded Fire Nation streets, she didn't touch anyone at all. The air was hot and humid, full of the scents of frying food, foreign spices, and the sulfur-gunpowder scent of fireworks. The air was heavy with humidity, there was sweat dripping down Hama's body beneath her stolen Fire Nation clothes, and the bodies around her were _full_ of blood, ripe with it, like fruit ready to burst.

They were complacent, here in the streets of their own country, they were giddy with _safety _and _freedom_. They were sickening in their happiness, every throat wa laughing, every face was smiling, every lover was spinning their beloved in a dance of jubilation to a tune that Hama could not really hear because there a sweeter song thrummed through her with every beat of every heart. A warm, slow kind of anger boiled inside of her, an emotion she was very familiar with.

_Peace_, for those who had started the bloodshed. For the _guilty_. She fought to keep the smile from slipping into a sneer. Sweat, beading on her forehead, dripped down over her face and she made no move to wipe it away. Her hands were clenched in the fabric of her red Fire Nation shirt and they were going to _stay there_.

_Peace_, and one hundred years too late to do any good at all.

You take what you are given. This was something she had learned, one valuable lesson she'd gained from all the suffering life had put her through. If there was a chance, however slim, you must seize it. When the prison had exploded into fire all around her, she'd escaped into the inferno and although she wanted to stand and absorb all of those _screams_, she'd gone as many miles as she could before the sun came up. Passing herself off as Fire Nation was easy, having lived as such for so many years.

Then the dreams had begun, the whispering voice in the back of her mind. _Justice. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Dark. The blood of the guilty will flow as free as water._

The streets swarmed with people, music thrumming the air, laughter and songs and bright smiles on happy faces. Long nails curled into her palms, but Hama smiled right back at them and worked her way through the press of human life down to the docks.

She'd heard the darkness calling, half a world away. It whispered in her dreams, all the lovely fantasies that could become reality. _Justice,_ at last, and if she had to slip into the dark arts to obtain it, than so be it. How could a Bloodbender squibble over such a small matter as black magic when so much was at stake? Better to dance with the darkness than to let the Fire Nation go unpunished. Better to sell her very soul, and see the balance of justice swing even at last. Half a world away, and it calls to her, its siren song like electricity in her very blood.

The music of the festival faded as she left the crowded streets for back alleys that finally emerged at the docks. Air heavy with moisture, the slap of ocean waves on the wharf, the creak of rigging and the salty scent of freedom.

She inhaled deeply, and this time her smile was genuine.

A simple tale, an Earth Kingdom prisoner of war released and seeking to return home. The captain didn't even charge her. She stayed on deck, in open air, drawing in great gulps of ocean-scented breeze. She stayed above even when the ship departed, near to midnight. Rocked in the wooden cradle of the ship on the rolling ocean waves, she looked back at the Fire Nation. Golden orbs of light and red-tinged shadows, indigo ocean reflecting a sky full of stars and a half-moon.

She wanted to laugh, she wanted to throw back her head and let her voice echo up to the stars in mad glee. She wanted to plunge over the splintered railing and drop beneath the waves into the dark embrace of the ocean where she _belonged_. She wanted to slip beneath the deck of the ship and suck the life's blood out of every treacherous, murdering heart.

Hama took a deep breath, letting it out through her teeth, nodding at the sailor who greeted her as he passed. She clenched her hands over the railing until the splinters bit deeply enough into her palms that blood trickled out over the dark wood.

Let them celebrate, let them sing. The darkness was calling her and promising justice, at long last. When she next saw these shores, when she next had Fire Nation soil beneath her feet, it would not be as the weak, helpless _child_ they had stolen and beaten and locked away. She would come as judge, jury, and executioner, bringing vengeance for all the innocent. She would wash them all away, drown them with the ocean's cold justice and bathe them all in the blood of their own sins.

* * *

A/N: Updated with the errors fixed…I think. There's a certain point where you've worked on something for so long that it's just empty words, it's not really a story anymore, and it's dangerous for me to edit too much at that point because _I hate everything_. Like, this chapter. I loved most of it when I wrote it but now I'm all full of doubt and like, _Does it work? Is the dance scene powerful enough? Is there too much Kataang in this?_ My poor beta usually wants to shoot me at this point.

This is nowhere near the end of this story. There's a lot left to go.

Half of this was written several months ago, around the time I updated the last chapter. That was the easy part. The rest of this took _work_. So I really hope you guys like it. I hope that the Kataangst of the previous chapters is balanced out okay. I know that their date activities aren't exactly original, I've seen a hundred variations that are all pretty much the same thing, but—meh. I'm okay with it.

Favorite parts, anyone? Personally, I liked the dance. And Hama surprised me, I wasn't expecting to enjoy writing her POV as much as I did.

Some of you have already reviewed, but I still have replies to all the reviews left for the last chapter, just so you guys know that I love you :D Feel free to PM me if you want to respond to anything, I'd love to hear from you. (Whoa, there were a ton of reviews! I condensed it to keep it from being a million pages long).

Lusa – Thanks! I'm glad you like what I'm doing with their relationship. The problem of miscommunication is a common one, and yeah, usually ends in a fun way. I'm glad you don't think it's melodramatic :-) The Pigeon One – I'm glad I've kept your attention through the whole thing. I'm doing my best to leave out the boring parts. Azula is a lot of fun to write, I'm glad you like what I'm doing with her POV on things. Erin87 – That fanart is awesome, isn't it? Glad you were led here! I don't necessarily think that Katara was OOC at the end of season 3, but I do think we got shorted when it came to Kataang reconcilliation and her POV on what she meant by the whole EIP thing. POF is my personal solution to all of that. I'm glad you enjoy it :-) vetgirl1293 – Zuko is so awkward and fun to write :-) I really enjoyed his role in the Kataang reconcilliation. I agree that he's probably the best man for the job. I'm glad the Kataangst wasn't an overload for you. Happy to say, those two have (_relatively_) smooth sailing from here on out :-) I think they deserve it. Munchkin62 – Thanks, I'm glad you like the story :-) Katia11 – Thank you! :-) Alania57 – Thank you, I'm glad you like my style :-) Anaroriel – I'm glad you like the mood/tone I've set here, since it's so different than the upbeat-ness of the series. And I'm really glad you like the Kataang. That's kind of the whole reason I'm doing this :-) M-chan – Hooray! I'm glad you like it! It hasn't answered all of your questions yet, but I promise that it does eventually :-) frozenheat – Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy it :-) Kataang-is-MYLIFE – I'm glad you like my potrayal of the characters, ATLA is fun to write because there are so many fun people in it :-) KataangLover87 – Wow! I made you cry? Aww… :-) That means I'm doing my job, yes yes? Glad you liked it that much! FYI, sticking to their ages is the hardest part, b/c there's such a different intrepertation out there of what is "age apprpriate" for these guys—not necessarily physically, but I mean as far as emotion maturity goes. So I'm glad that you're glad that I'm doing it this way :-) Patronus – I'm glad you like what I'm doing with Azula. I really like writing the crazy-twisted-angsty perspective she has. Crazy people are fun to write, I think :-) The Kataang-joint meditation scene was my favorite part to write, and one of the only things I haven't utterly hated (yet, bleh) in that weird self-conscious-overly-analytical way I have, so I'm glad to know that you really felt for them at that part :-) CalleighB – I try to leave out the boring parts :-) Good to know I'm succeeding! Also, I'm glad that you really see them/hear them as you read. Being the author, it all just becomes words to me at some point and so I always worry that it won't translate through the way I want it to. I'm glad you liked Aang's solo scene, and his realization about his love for her there. It parallels what Katara decided about her destiny at the end of this chapter. She's a favorite character of mine too, and I actually agree with you about the whole EIP thing. I just think she didn't communicate her point very well, which is very normal. I also think she's probably not had a lot of experience dealing with her feelings and so she was unprepared in a number of ways. I hope you like what I've done with her in this chapter. I'm looking forward to your POV on her :-) Understanding Awareness – Thank you! I put a lot of work into this story. I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far. Fawnspots – Thank you, I'm glad you like it :-) penvision – Thank you! I'm gald you like my style :-) Gabgalrox – Glad you like the Maiko part, they were fun. I'm also glad you like the interaction between everyone, most of the dialogue flowed pretty easily. Thank you for taking the time to review! Greta Marx – I felt the same way about ATLA when I finished the series. There's a lot of good stuff out there, but nothing was quite what I _needed_, you know? Hence, POF :-) I'm glad you think it flows well, I'm working really hard to get everything as perfect as I can. Thank you for reading :-) Wordwryhta – Thank you, I'm glad you like what I've done with everyone's emotions. It's kind of a challenge to set just the right tone, so that the writing isn't melodramatic, so I'm glad to know you like it :-) As far as Katara goes, I think that what you said about fearing to lose him a second time is exactly what was motivating her in EIP. This story is my personal resolution between that and the finale scene where they kiss. AdoringReviewer – Thank you, I'm glad you like this story :-) I loved ATLA, and I _really_ loved Kataang, and since we didn't get to see them get together — well, that's why I'm writing this story. dwa – Of course he was willing to help her, he loves her :-) Lol, I'm glad you liked that scene, it was fun to write. Thank you for reviewing this story! appafangirl – Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the Kataang, that's kind of my whole purpose with this story :-) I'm also glad you like the Katara/Zuko friendship. I'm a big fan of that too, Zuko is really fun and socially awkward so anything I do with him is always fun to write. NOBLAHBLAHBLAH – I've always thought the "I don't hate you" thing was just their weird-awkward-emo way of saying "I love you" :-) I'm glad you liked the Kataang meditation! It was my favorite part to write and it's pretty important in their relationship, so I'm glad it went over well :-) MadLori – I'm glad you like this story so much :-) I also felt that there wasn't enough Kataang in the finale to explain the gap, and hence, POF. I've also been reading and writing fanfic for a long time, and I've put a lot of work into honing my skills. I'm glad to hear it's paying off :-) Thank you for reviewing this story! Foayasha – POF is kind of my solution to needing more closure as far as Kataang goes, so I'm glad you enjoy it as well. I really love the characters and I'm working really hard to make this as close to the vision I have of it in my head as I can. I'm glad you like it :-) Vi0lentDelights – I'm glad this fits your own personal cannon so well :-) I also thought that there needed to be more Kataang in the fianle to explain what happened with the whole EIP thing. I wanted to watch them fall in love. I'm glad you enjoy this story so much, thank you for reviewing :-) Jonathan Priest – I'm glad you liked Toph's part in the prologue. There's a lot of little stuff in this story like that, things that I really like but that no one ever comments on so idk if anyone else cares. So, thank you for that :-) Also, it's good to know that the writing is going over the way it's supposed to. I've worked really hard at it over the years, and this story is very important to me so I'm really pushing myself with this. I'm glad you like it, thank you for taking the time to review. Stardust897 – Thank you! I want to make their relationship as real as I can, while staying inside the bounds of their characters and the show. I waited three seasons to see them fall in love, and while the finale kiss was great, I really wanted more. I'm glad you like my take on that :-) BearWithGlasses – The path I'm going to take with the whole Azula thing is one I haven't seen done before, so I'm really interested to see what everyone thinks about it. Stay tuned! kiss-from-a-rose-71090 – There was a quote in a Terry Prachett novel that kind of revolutionized the way I write villains. "There is no right or wrong—only different places to stand." I've kind of always felt like most villians aren't as fleshed out as they should be, and so I'm trying to make Azula (and Hama) real people. ATLA did a great job of that (with the possible exception of Ozai). jcball12 – There's always going to be a certain amount of awkwardness in any new relationship, but yeah, I've always seen Kataang as having an easier time of that. The stuff in this chapter is about as awkward as it gets for them. I kind of want to show that, yeah, they have a deeper, more intimate/emtotional relationship. Hope you like what I've done so far :-) Katsumara – I'm glad you liked the way I handled Katara's apology. I've kind of always thought that she gets portrayed more knowing/experienced than is realistic for her, so I'm glad you liked the route I took there. Thanks for reviewing, I always look forward to hearing from you :-) Liselle129 – I'm actually pretty excited about where the Azula stuff is going, but yeah, she's just a small sideshow to the main feature of Kataang in this story, so her parts (and Hama's) I'm trying to keep as short and interesting as I can, so no one gets bored and skips them. I'm glad you liked how I portrayed their emotions :-) I'm trying to make them as real as I can, and it's fun and very challenging. FireladyMai – Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Kimjuni2 – No Zutara romance here, only friendship :-) Bahamut Slayer – My take on the whole meditation/energy thing is heavily influenced by Tamora Pierce, an author of young adult fantasy books that have strong female leads and usually a great deal of magic. That's kind of the perspective I'm taking with bending in this story :-) I'm glad you enjoyed Mai, she has such an odd balance of emotion that it makes her a real challenge to write. Silver Thunder – Solitary/introspective parts are extremely difficult, because there's no one to guide your character and it's easy to lose the tension and focus of what you're doing. I'm glad you liked that part! Mithendel – I'm glad you liked it :-) Rhed – Thanks for catching the thing about the monks :-) It's good to know what breaks the immersion for people, that's something I want to avoid as much as possible. I'm glad you like my take on Aang. He's my fav character out of them all (although Katara is a pretty close second) and I'm trying to make him—human, you know? :-) Thanks for reviewing! Private LL Church – As you can see from this chapter, the "filler" parts of politics and the villians are kept to a minimum to allow for maximum Kataangness :-) millergirlxx9 – Thank you! I'm glad you like this story :-) QueenOfTheCute – Young teenagers is love _is _pretty hard to write, mostly because at that age, new in a relationship, you don't know anything about anything (including yourself) and that was a loooong time ago for me (well, it _feels_ like it anyway XD ) so I have to keep in mind that I can't let them be too mature about it all just yet. Glad to know you love it so much! arizony – The meditation scene between the two of them was my favorite part to write, and I kept wobbling back and forth as to whether it was really as good as I thought it was, but so many people have commented about liking it…I guess I succeeded after all :-) One of the things I want to do with this story is to show what love really is, and I'm glad you like what I've done with that so far. Haley Renee – I loved writing the Azula and Maiko parts :-) And I'm glad you liked Aang's meditation scene. Thank you for reviewing! aang'sbestbuddy – Your favorite part was mine too :-) I'm glad you liked it! I had fun writing Airbender breathing lessons. zebradonkey – lol, I hope you're satisfied now? At least Katara agrees with you that she needs to be more deserving of him :-) I'd be interested to know what you think about her part at the end of this chapter. Star of Arabia – Thank you! I'm trying to at least answer all the questions _I _had, I'm glad to know you enjoy this as well :-) Metella – Thank you, I'm glad you like the Sokka/Katara stuff, I love writing them :-) Angel'sSnugieWillRuleTheWorld – I'm glad you like my style :-) And having Sokka being more mature is partially a reflection of the fact that I fail at humor, so he's a little more on the serious side but it seems to be working really well :-) – Thank you! I'm glad you like the fact that there's more real emotion than fluff :-) Thank you for reviewing!


	5. Coronation

Recommended Listening: The dance at the celebration dinner was written to Feist's _1234_ and _I'd Rather Dance With You_ by Kings of Convenience, the battle scene at the end was written to the Agni Kai theme from the show.

A/N: Okay. I pretty much fail at updating :/

IV. Coronation

* * *

We might kiss when we are alone

When nobody's watching

We might take it home

We might make out when nobody's there

It's not that we're scared

It's just that it's delicate

- _Damien Rice, Delicate_

* * *

The rest of the walk back was spent quietly, a warm and comfortable silence between them. Their pace was slow, but all too soon they are standing outside of her door. Katara pressed one hand flat on the wood, and then turned and leaned her back against it. She wondered if he would kiss her goodnight. He still hadn't let go of her hand, and now his fingers traced over her palm.

"Tonight was…amazing," he said.

"Yes, it was." She pushed her hair out of her face. "Thank you for making time for this."

He swallowed, looking nervous and off-balance for the first time the whole night.

"I'm glad you had fun. I mean, glad you enjoyed yourself." He swallowed again, eyes darting over her face. "I mean you—you really did, right? You don't have to say you did if you didn't, I mean, you won't hurt my feelings or anything. We're supposed to be, um, better with communication so I just want to be sure you know—"

"Aang," she interrupted, somewhere between frustrated and amused. "Just shut up and kiss me, okay?"

Such difference, now that they were alone in the intimate, torch-lit darkness of the corridor outside her bedroom instead of in the middle of a noisy, brilliantly lit and overcrowded street. A different kind of tension, now, drawing the air tight between them; a quivery kind of need fluttering in her heart and quickening her breath.

Aang took a deep, shuddering breath, then placed his hands very carefully on her hips and leaned in and pressed his lips oh so very softly to hers.

It was much more like the kisses they had shared before, on the day of the invasion and then on Ember Island, and much less like the more passionate ones they had shared since then. It was soft and gentle and undemanding. A very gentlemanly kind of kiss. She thought Sokka would approve.

The problem: it wasn't at all what she wanted.

Aang pulled back after only a few seconds and Katara experienced a brief moment of utter turmoil.

How was she supposed to express that she wanted…somewhat _more_? Was it okay to—to say something like that, to ask for more than what was offered? Would it be too forward? Would he understand that she only wanted a deeper, more thorough kiss, and not think she was seeking to compromise the integrity of their fledgling relationship?

Was this something most girls learned from their mothers? Was she, half-orphaned, alone in feeling so conflicted?

Judging by the way Aang looked at her, the confusion and consternation in his expression, some of this must have been reflected on her face. She sighed, making the conscious, deliberate effort to reel herself in and _choosing_ not to feel nervous or awkward.

A deep breath, to steady her racing heart, and then she stared at him through her lashes with half-open eyes. "That's…not exactly what I had in mind, Aang."

He looked confused, but there was bright color high in his cheeks and she thought, privately, that he knew very well what she had expected. "I don't know if it's such a, um, such a good idea if, if we—"

Determination flared within her. She grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and spun him around. With his back pressed against the wall and Katara pressed against his front, he swallowed nervously. In this close contact, she was well aware of the stuttering beat of his heart. Katara smiled at him, feeling rather predatory, knowing that her actions put him in an awkward position and not caring at all. This was _fun_.

He opened his mouth to say something, question or protest, but she didn't even give him time to draw breath. She cupped his face in her hands, tilted his head to allow herself better access, and kissed him the way he'd kissed her after their dance.

She could feel him trembling, but despite that his whole body was tense. She started her kiss softly and her lips moved against his, familiarizing herself with his taste. She sucked on his bottom lip, gently, and his fingers clenched on her hips. A tremor ran through him, calling up an answering tremor from her own body. They were dancing on the edge of something dangerous here, an unexplored and hazardous territory; a kind of _wanting_ that went down to her bones.

Katara sighed, a quivery exhalation of breath, and pressed herself a little closer. A little deeper. She licked along his mouth and when he opened it she slid her tongue between his lips. Aang whimpered a little, but his hands tightened again on her hips and then he slid his arms around her, holding her properly, cradling her against him while she explored the kiss.

She didn't know how much time they spent like that, but when she finally broke away the world was dark and hot and she couldn't really seem to stand on her own. Aang didn't release her but merely tightened his hold until she could steady her breathing and step away.

"Probably for the best," she said, eyes dropping to his mouth, tongue wetting her lips. "That you have to go, I mean."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess." The resignation in his tone drew a laugh from her, and she was very aware of his eyes on her as she leaned in and kissed his cheek, softly.

"Goodnight, Aang."

Reluctance clear on his face, he smiled wryly at her. "Goodnight, Katara."

* * *

Aang settled into his customary chair at the large desk in Zuko's room. Even though summer had just ended and in Aang's mind the temperature was still a little warm, the Firebender had a huge blaze going in the fireplace. A pot of tea waited on the center of the desk, steam curling up from the metal spout and from the cup by Zuko's elbow. The rest of the table had drowned in paperwork some weeks ago. Aang and Zuko kept reshuffling the piles in order of importance.

Aang cleared a little space in front of him to work on…and then he set the little penguin down in front of him and traced the smooth wood with his fingertips. Resting with one arm on the table and his chin on his arm. Firelight danced in dark gray eyes.

Watching him, the secret smile and the blush in his cheeks, Zuko said, "I'm glad you worked things out."

Aang's small smile slipped into a lopsided grin. "So am I."

Zuko divided the paperwork between them and they settled in.

Having been sorted first by Zuko's secretary, (a tall, dry stick of a man whose only joy in life seemed to be sticking ridiculously rigidly to Zuko's schedule—woe betide anyone who dared to bring chaos to his religion of organization) the letters were all of importance. Foreign correspondence with the Earth Kingdom and both Water Tribes, matters of state from his own nobles who lived in outlying regions, summaries of meetings he didn't have time to attend—all boring as hell, and all requiring his attention. After a moment spent quietly working, only the crackling of the fire and the occasional _thump_ as the logs fell apart and burned down to ashes, Zuko came across something unusual in the mountain of parchment before him.

"Who is Bumi, and why would he send a letter to Momo?"

Silence.

Zuko looked up. The Avatar sat tilted backwards in his chair, defying gravity in the way only an Airbender would be comfortable with, an open letter forgotten in his hand. His eyes fixed, unfocused, on the little penguin statue. The goofy, lopsided grin was back on his face.

Zuko snorted. "Aang, if I had known you were going to be this much of a spaz tonight, I wouldn't have made you come."

Aang seemed to finally become aware Zuko was talking to him. "Hmm?" He blinked. "I'm sorry, Zuko, I didn't hear you."

The soon-to-be Firelord and the Avatar, and this was how their productive evening was spent.

"Can you _try_ to focus? We haven't sorted through even half of this crap," Zuko gestured at the pile of letters and scrolls his secretary had deemed worthy of his attention, "and we still have to prepare for the arrival of the Earth Kingdom delegation next week."

Aang tipped forward until his chair settled back into place. He slid the penguin firmly aside. "You're absolutely right. This is no time to be thinking about—" He stopped and sudden color flooded his cheeks. "Um, I mean, I'll focus. I promise."

Looking at him, Zuko shook his head.

Aang asked, "Wait, what did you say about Momo?"

Zuko slid the letter over to him. "I was asking, why would this Bumi guy send a letter to your lemur?" Maybe his secretary needed a more detailed list on what was and was not appropriate to give him.

Aang snatched the letter up with a serious expression, eyes skimming over it quickly. "You mean, you don't know who King Bumi is?"

"_King_ Bumi? Of course I know who he is! I just—why the hell is it addressed to _Momo_?"

"Um," Aang narrowed his eyes, still reading. "Have you never met him? He's…rather unusual. One of a kind. Iroh told me that before he left Ba Sing Se, Bumi had kind of taken it over. Which makes sense, he's ruled Omashu for ages."

Zuko wished now he had read the letter before passing it over. "Well, what does it say?"

"He's just talking about Flopsy—um, his pet—um—you know, I don't even know what Flopsy is."

"Aang!"

"Okay, sheesh. It's just chatter. He's like that. It really is addressed to Mo—" Aang stopped when his eyes reached the very bottom of the letter. Zuko fought hard against the urge to snatch it out of his hands.

Aang lay the letter on the table in front of him and leaned back. "It says at the bottom, 'PS-Tell Aang thatthe city Ba Sing Se insists upon hosting the treaty signing. Oh—and tell him that I have done some redecorating. I think he will approve.'"

Curiosity finally satisfied, Zuko relaxed back into his chair. "All that just to say that they want to host the treaty signing?" He lifted the cup of tea beside his stack of papers and took a small sip, breathing in the steam. He still didn't much care for the flavor, but the energy boost was a necessity these days.

"And to tell me he redecorated."

Zuko snorted, then took another sip of tea. "I don't know why we couldn't just wait for the delegation to arrive. It's only another week."

Aang arched one brow at this, then leaned forward again and retrieved the letter he'd been reading when he'd spaced off. "Actually, Zuko, this letter says they'll be here in two days."

Something went horribly wrong in the process of swallowing the tea. Zuko inhaled at the wrong moment and choked, spraying hot tea all over the table through his mouth _and _nose.

Aang tried to dodge and succeeded, but only because moving so quickly upset the balance of his chair and he crashed to the floor.

"_Two days?_"

* * *

Katara dropped the heavy bag of scrolls and texts to the floor of Appa's pen. It hit the ground with an audible thud, raising a small cloud of dust. Appa's wet nose thudded into her chest and the exuberance of his 'hello' nearly lifted her off the ground. He made a noise somewhere between a moo and a purr and she rubbed her hand through his thick coat.

She liked it there, in the big open barn, far away from the heat and bustle of the palace. And she could tell it meant a lot to the sky bison.

It had started because of her need for a quiet place to study the healing texts, somewhere open enough to practice and isolated enough to avoid interruption. Then she thought of Appa, and how lonely he must be with Aang so busy being the Avatar.

The first time she'd come to see him, he'd been heartbreakingly happy. His loneliness was evident in the way he followed her around as she moved through her Waterbending stances in what had become daily practice. Then she'd pulled out one of the scrolls and settled down on a bale of hay, quickly becoming engrossed in the detailed sketches of anatomy and the theories of how blood worked in the body. After a moment, something nudged her foot, and when she looked up it was to meet a pair of brown eyes looming over her.

_You miss him too._

So coming to see him had become part of her daily routine. The men who kept the livestock and war beasts for the palace adjusted to her visits, and by her preference—and Appa's—she slowly took over all of the duties involved in caring for the sky bison. Except mucking out the pen. A Master Waterbender had to draw the line somewhere.

Katara fell forward onto Appa's face, the flat heavy bones beneath the thick fur. His greeting rumbled through her bones, and she turned her face into his fur. He smelled like hay and apples and large musky animal. When he snorted, it shook her whole body.

Perhaps the best thing about Appa: he was an incredibly good listener. She could tell him anything at all that was bothering her and he would only whuffle at her clothes in agreement, leaving grass stains and bison spit on her shirt, then demand another apple.

She opened her heart to him now, voicing the trouble that had been growing inside of her for weeks now, the thing that had been at the forefront of her mind the whole time she'd been on her date with Aang.

"He wants to go fight her by himself, Appa."

Her sigh blew a path in the forest of fur around her face.

"You remember what happened the last time?"

His sigh lifted her whole body.

She snuggled into him, gripping fistfuls of his fur. In her mind, she watched Aang falling. Charred flesh and the salty tang of blood. This image would be forever suspended within her. Part of her identity, of her will because—_never again_. The dead weight of him in her arms, dear gods the _blood_, pouring out of him, bright red on Appa's white fur, on the blue of her own robes.

She had held him in her arms and _there had been no heartbeat._

Katara smoothed down the clumps of fur she'd gripped, damp now with the sweat from her palms.

"We can't let that happen again. "Don't—" Katara stepped back to gaze into the massive eye, her hand flat on his cheek. "Don't let him fly away without me, okay? Promise?"

Appa snorted again then licked her face. She wondered if that was bison for, _I promise_.

* * *

"I can't believe they came two weeks early," Zuko hissed through his smile. At his side, Mai sighed. Then snorted in laughter.

"You are such a _baby_."

"We had to clear out half the East Wing! On two day's notice! If Katara and Sokka hadn't been able to explain to their father why the Water Tribe got stuck all the way out near the servant's quarters there could have been a serious breech of etiquette!"

Mai stared at him with drawn brows and half of her mouth lifted like she wasn't sure if she was going to start laughing or yelling at him. She straightened her expression as they began to walk down the steps, arm in arm, to greet the Earth Kingdom delegation.

"Seriously, Zuko? You sound…ridiculous. This political business is really getting to you. Maybe you should take a lesson from Aang—"

"Mai, he's been teaching me everything he can about diplomacy but even _he _doesn't—"

The pressure on his arm stopped him, and he looked over at her. Mai had stopped walking one step behind him and now stood in full view of his court and about twenty men from the Earth Nation with her head thrown back and full laughter ringing from her throat.

"Zuko," she said when she could speak again, staring at him with bright eyes, "I meant his _date_. I meant you need a lesson in how to _relax_. And maybe spend some time with your girlfriend while you're at it."

He cleared his throat. "Oh," he said.

Mai shook her head, smiling, and fell in step with him again.

They were silent all the way to the bottom of the steps, one in bemused contemplation and one in fond affection.

* * *

The fresh scent of apples wafted out of Appa's mouth when he bellowed his greeting. The bison bounded quickly over and flattened Aang to the ground.

"Hey, buddy. I missed you too." He ran his hands through the freshly groomed fur on Appa's face. "They're taking good care of you here, aren't they?"

Appa hadn't let up the grumble that he'd begun the moment Aang came into his sight, a steady stream of bison complaints that his Master did not see him often enough. Aang knew him well enough to get the gist of it.

"I know, I know," he said, rubbing the sensitive spot behind Appa's horn where the bison could never quite reach to scratch. "But I promise it's really important."

Judging by Appa's snort, he and Aang had somewhat of a different definition of 'important'.

A mountain of hay on a squeaky cart shoved through the door of the barn, and Appa abandoned his Master in favor of his lunch, which quivered and shook as the person pushing it struggled with the top-heavy load.

Aang bounded around to help. "Here, I can get that. Appa is—"

He was completely unprepared and utterly delighted to see blue eyes narrowed with effort and dark hair with hay stuck in it.

"Katara!"

"Hi, Aang." The cart wobbled precariously and his hands shot out to steady it. None of this was made easier by Appa hovering over them, nearly bouncing from eagerness and coating the floor in a nice, slobbery trail of drool.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be busy with your healing studies."

Sweat stood out on her face, rolling down her neck, into the collar of her shirt. He yanked his eyes back upward to find her staring at him in amusement. They struggled with the unwieldy cart, heaving its unwilling bulk closer and closer to Appa's feeding trough.

"I am studying," she said, panting with effort. "It's really quiet here—and Appa—misses you—and—" They heaved the cart sideways at the trough and the hay tumbled over with a _whumph_. Appa buried his face in it, snorting and munching in happy bison greed.

Katara straightened up and brushed loose wisps of hair out of her face. She seemed almost shy. "I know how busy you are and I didn't want him to get lonely." One hand resting on Appa's side. "We keep each other company, right Appa?" He grumbled, and turned his head to nudge her in obvious affection.

Aang felt a little in awe of her. Every time he thought he had a handle on the strength of what he felt for her, she would do something like pull him out into the street to dance with him in the Fire Nation, or love his bison so much that she spent hours here keeping Appa company.

"Could you _be_ more perfect?"

Her mouth tightened. "Aang," she said, "I'm far from perfect."

Her shirt was dirty, covered in bison fur, and she still had hay in her hair and she smelled (very pleasantly, he thought) like a sweaty girl. And she was _his_.

Aang smiled at her, taking a step closer and shortening the distance between them. Alarm briefly flashed through her eyes. Good. She'd had him on edge after their goodnight kiss. Maybe now it was time for a little…_payback_.

"No," he agreed quietly, taking another step. "No, you're not perfect. You're stubborn and competitive and you could hold a grudge until the stars crumbled."

Her eyes had narrowed at the corners, and she was obviously unsure how to take this. But her breathing had quickened, and when he closed the last bit of distance between them and placed his hands on her hips her eyes dropped to his mouth. Aang thought he recognized what was reflected in the blue depths. It was exactly what he felt himself.

"I know all your flaws. And I know the things you're afraid of and what hurts you, even though you try to hide all of that."

He leaned forward and she leaned down until their foreheads touched and they shared the same breath. His voice fell to a whisper.

"What I'm saying is…you don't have to hide it from me. Maybe you're not a perfect girl…but, Katara, you're my other half. We balance. And that makes you perfect for me."

* * *

"I'm just saying," Sokka said, fidgeting in his formal Water Tribe clothing, "that after Ember Island, I don't have much faith in Fire Nation theater."

The whole group had crammed into a covered carriage, on their way to see Zuko's favorite play, _Love Amongst the Dragons_. They hadn't all gotten to spend much time together in a recreational setting and the high-energy excitement was too much for Sokka and Toph, who had gotten into a debate with Zuko over the merits of Fire Nation entertainment.

"At least you can _see_ it," Toph said, also fidgeting in formal wear. It had taken Katara _hours_ to track the Earthbender down and prepare her, and she was very proud of her efforts, even if Toph didn't appreciate being clean.

Zuko, decked out in full Firelord regalia, leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Guys, this is important to me. Can't you at least _try _to behave yourselves?"

It was eerie, how similar Toph and Sokka's grins were.

"Of course, Firelord Zuko."

"Whatever you say, Firelord Zuko."

"We will swear this solemn oath to you, O Firelord! To follow this play with utmost attention!"

"With utter seriousness!"

"Theater is _serious business!_"

"Since we're dressed up in our Serious Business clothes, if we hate the play would it be an international crime?"

"I'm too young to go to prison!"

"Relax, young Earthbender. If they can't hold a loony like Azula, they won't stand a chance against Team Avatar."

Zuko looked a little besieged. Before things got further out of hand—knowing her brother and Toph, that could mean _anything_—Katara spoke up over them, leaning forward past Aang to look at Zuko.

"_I'm_ really excited about this."

He smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Katara."

Aang squeezed her hand, and she turned her head to meet his eyes. "Do I get to kiss you again?" he asked. Her heartbeat sped up, partly in anticipation but also, a little, because Ember Island was still somewhat of an open wound in her heart. But she didn't want to drag down the giddy mood of the evening, and if _Aang_ felt comfortable enough with their relationship to joke about the fact that she'd almost ruined it, who was she to argue?

She tilted her head to one side, pretending to consider his question. "I don't know," she said, and then tilted her mouth to one side in a smile. "It might confuse me."

"Maybe we should try it now, just in case."

She was already leaning in, one hand on his chest, _painfully_ aware of everyone's eyes on them. "Maybe we should," she murmured. A quick kiss, slightest pressure. She hardly got to taste him at all before Toph and Sokka had started up again.

"Boo!"

"Hiss!"

"Hey now, Avatar Aang! That's my little sister. What with this corrupting of the innocent?"

Aang's eyes shone with the lights of the city, refracted by the thick glass windows of the carriage. "Don't blame me," he said, looking from Sokka to Katara. His fingers tightened around hers again. "She's the one that does most of the corrupting."

Toph burst into a fit of laughter while Katara blushed so brightly that she felt her cheeks burning.

"Ahhhh! I surrender!" Sokka waved his hands madly as if to ward them off. "I am really happy for you both, but I don't want any gory details."

Katara grit her teeth and glared at Aang, who smiled unrepentantly back at her. "Then you will be happy to know that there_ aren't any_," she said firmly.

Toph's incredulous snort kind and the subsequent intensifying of Katara's blush and Aang's grin ruined the credibility of her statement. Sokka groaned.

The crowd waiting outside the theater seemed to be there just to see them. Fire Nation soldiers held the press of humanity at bay. Screams and whistles and marriage proposals (none of which was helped by Sokka and Toph calling similar things back at the crowd) followed them into the theater, where they were ushered up to the Firelord's personal balcony.

Aang also remembered Ember Island all too vividly, and he made it a point to tug Katara to the empty row below all of their friends.

Sitting beside her, thigh to thigh, aware of the bright color in her cheeks and the fact that her hand was a little sweaty in his grasp…in Aang's mind, this night already beat the disaster of Ember Island, hands down, no contest. He kissed her cheek, smooth skin warm under his lips.

"Much better than Ember Island," she whispered, smiling shyly at him, and he realized that her thoughts paralleled his own.

When the theater below them finally filled up, the music began and the curtains opened. The lights in the theater dimmed.

It was at this point that Katara slumped down, resting her head on his shoulder. Her thumb began stroking his fingers and when he eventually loosened his grasp, her fingers stroked his hand, rubbing over smooth skin; tracing the lines in his palm, the small nicks and scars. And that's all she did, touching his hand and wrist.

Nothing more than that. Nothing, really, to account for his half-lidded eyes, and slow deep breaths. Nothing that should have set his heart racing. Aang shifted to hide his arousal. He had no idea what was happening in the play. He turned his head just enough to press a kiss to her hair and remained, breathing in the scent of her. After a moment, she released his hand and he shifted again, slipping one arm behind her.

The formal Water Tribe robes she wore hid his hand from view—not that their friends could see them well anyway, or were even paying attention to anything other than the stage. Aang slipped his fingers beneath her robe and slowly, gently, traced the curve of her spine. From the small of her back his fingers wandered upward, over warm and impossibly soft skin. He was aware that Katara's breathing was rapid and shallow. Her hand, resting just above his knee, flexed and her nails bit through the cloth of his pants and into his skin.

_A guy could get used to this_, he thought. His fingers ran over the hem of her breastband. Her hand tensed again on his knee. _Maybe _too_ used to this_. Aang sighed, stroked his fingers down her spine one last time, and then removed his hand and wrapped his arm properly around her.

Katara settled fully into him with a long, contented sigh. He couldn't suppress the smile that curved his mouth.

_Way_ better than stupid Ember Island.

The next thing he knew, Zuko was shaking him roughly awake.

Outside they waited for the valet to pull their carriage around. Zuko wouldn't stop glaring.

"I can't believe you _fell asleep_."

"Sorry, Zuko," Aang said, apologizing _again_. His grin was a little sheepish. "You know we've had a lot of late nights recently."

Toph grinned, a shark's smile. "Oh, _that_ explains it."

Zuko looked back and forth between the two of them, one brow arched. "Explains what?"

"Why Aang and Katara's heartbeats were so…_intense_ during the play."

This time, Katara and Aang both blushed and looked away from each other. Sokka whimpered.

"This is _so_ not what I had in mind when I endorsed this relationship."

Zuko grinned at him. "So says the King of the Rose Petals."

* * *

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Judging by the way Zuko looked, his words were not far from the truth.

"Just aim it away from the carpets."

Zuko groaned and dropped his head between his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The words, when they came, burst out of him on one breath.

"I don't think I can go through with this."

He missed the look Aang and Katara shot each other over his bowed head.

"Um," Aang said. "You kind of have to. Where are they going to get another Firelord?"

Inspiration struck with another wave of nausea. Zuko bit off the words, breathing deeply. "_You_ be the Firelord."

"Um, thanks for the vote of confidence, Zuko, but I'm not exactly cut out to rule a country."

Couldn't they see how brilliant this idea was? "Why not? Everyone loves you, you're the Avatar—"

"Which is precisely _why_ Aang can't rule this country. He has to balance the whole world, Zuko."

Damn that woman and her cold logic.

Toph poked her head through the curtains. "The Fire Sages want to know what's taking so long, and why you're not—" She stopped, sightless eyes blinking at them before her face scrunched up in confusion. "What's wrong with Zuko?"

"He doesn't want to be Firelord."

"He's hoping we'll leave him alone so he can run away and make Aang rule the Fire Nation in his place."

Toph shook her head, utterly baffled. "_Why_?"

Zuko finally lifted his head. All three of them were staring at him. "Because—" he burst out, and then lowered his voice. "What if I suck?"

Toph glared at him, unfazed. "Then you suck. So what? You really think you're going to do a _worse_ job than Fail Lord Ozai? Or _Azula_?" She stomped into the room and jabbed one finger into his chest.

When put that way, it did seem kind of…stupid.

"You're right." He could hear the surprise in his own voice, and he was aware that behind him Aang and Katara were snickering. He reached out and squeezed Toph's bony shoulder. "Thank you, Toph."

She shrugged him off. "Yeah, no problem. Now, get out there and do your stuff…Firelord Zuko."

He took a deep breath, and stood to his feet. Toph and Katara left together, and Zuko looked down at Aang's sympathetic gray eyes. Most Avatar's never even found out they were the Avatar until they were at least sixteen. At ten, Aang had begun his training, mastered Airbending in only two years, traveled in time, and then saved the whole world. And he was still a few months shy of fourteen.

_If I can't succeed at being the Firelord…if I try my hardest and I still fail and disappoint everyone… I can't stand to disappoint him. What is it about this kid that…makes everyone feel this way?_

"You can do this," Aang said. And then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Zuko in a quick, tight hug. "I believe in you, Zuko."

Zuko let his arm rest around Aang's shoulders for a moment, and then took a deep breath. _Maybe…this is why._

They stepped through the curtain together.

* * *

Shortly after the coronation, as the sun slowly sank towards the sea, the crowd began to filter into the dining hall for the feast celebration the ascension of their new Firelord. Zuko had fought his advisors on the seating arrangement. No one had a problem with the Avatar sitting at the Firelord's right hand (this had been the result of another fight, actually, between Zuko and Aang, with Zuko insisting that _Aang_ be seated at the head of the table and Aang equally adamant that he _not_—sitting at Zuko's right hand was actually the compromise) or with a Bei Fong sitting so close…but children from the Southern Water Tribe? And Mai, whose family line wasn't even in the Golden Book of the Blood, but only the _Silver_?

"This isn't up for discussion. These are my friends. They're my _family_. It's only three more seats. Everyone else can just _deal with it_."

In the end, he got his way. He was, after all, their Firelord.

There were seven long tables in the hall, all laden with flowers and bright candles. The noise from the crowd echoed from the high vaulted ceilings, where even more candles hung from chandeliers. Servants bearing laden trays moved at a steady pace from the kitchens. Each dish was offered first to the Firelord and his friends, which delighted Sokka and very quickly dismayed Zuko's servants. Sokka wanted _everything_. Soon enough, the main course was served—a giant winged boar, an animal nearly a third the size of Appa. Juice dripped from the golden, crackling skin, falling into the large platter around it which was filled with roasted vegetables.

Sokka drooled. Aang grimaced.

The creature was attacked with serving knife and pronged fork, and soon dismembered and dispersed among Zuko's guests. For the first time, the din of conversation ebbed. Sokka even slowed himself down to savor the succulent pork, sweet with a hint of Fire Nation spice.

Aang stuck with his salad and toasted butterbread.

"You know, Aang, I really don't get the whole vegetarian thing." Sokka held up his fork, on which was a piece of greasy, dripping meat. "I mean, what's the point there? The animal is already dead, it would have been slaughtered to feed someone else anyway. So what can it hurt if you have some too?"

Aang smiled, lifting salad greens with his chopsticks. "All life is sacred, Sokka. Whether it was killed directly because of me or not, humans were still responsible."

"Well," Sokka asked, "what about animals? They kill. They eat each other. Humans are animals, too. Aang, it's the way of the world."

"The monks taught that the difference between men and beasts is free will. Choice. That's the whole point. We have the power to take life, but that doesn't mean we have to chose to do so."

Katara looked from Aang's face to his plate to her own. And then she set her fork down and slid it away from her, feeling strange.

After dinner, the guests were ushered from the dining hall into the dance hall. Tables lined the far walls with refreshing drinks and fruit trays. The lighting had been toned down a notch here, and the flames from the torches and candles were reflected like stars in the polished dance floor. The room had a rectangular shape, and both of the longer walls were open via numerous archways into large gardens. Ample air flow, perfect lighting—Aang grinned, throwing his arms wide.

"This is _awesome_. Katara, come on!"

Sokka groaned loudly. "Ugh, you guys. Do you really have to get out there and show off?"

Zuko, with Mai on his arm, looked at Aang and Katara with one brow arched. His eyes gleamed. "You guys dance?"

"Of course they dance. Being an Airbender, Twinkletoes—" and Toph nudged him in the ribs with one sharp elbow "—is a natural."

Zuko cocked his head to one side, looking them over. Considering. Then he looked at Mai and arched one brow. She took in his expression, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "If you insist."

The grin Zuko turned on Aang was all teeth. "I bet we can out-dance you."

"What? No way! Katara and I can beat you _easy_."

"You sound pretty confident. But I've been taking dance lessons since I could walk." Zuko turned to Sokka and Suki. "What about you guys? You want in on this?"

Sokka grinned, leering at Zuko. "You bet we do! We'll show you how two _warriors_—"

Suki nudged him gently in the side. "Um, actually Sokka, I don't really feel much like dancing. Can't we sit this one out?"

"Come on, benders win everything! This is our chance to show off." He kissed her cheek. "Okay, so maybe we don't have a lifetime of practice 'actually dancing,'" and he hooked his fingers in the air as quotes, "but between your fancy footwork and me being, well, me, I bet we can take 'em."

With everyone's attention on her, Suki blushed. "I'm just pretty full from all that food. Maybe later? It's been kind of a long day and I feel like I need a nap…or at least a glass of water and a shady bench in the garden?"

Toph tapped one bare foot thoughtfully against the floor. "I'll dance with you, Sokka." She smirked. "You may have two left feet, but no one beats an Earthbender when it comes to putting on the moves.

"You're on!"

Aang led Katara out onto the dance floor but she seemed oddly reluctant.

"What's wrong?"

The color in her cheeks darkened as she met his eyes. "My dad's watching. I guess it's just a little weird."

Aang grinned at her. "I'll be good if you will."

"Aang!" She sounded exasperated, but he could see that she was more amused than anything else. He pulled her closer and took her other hand.

"Don't worry about them, remember?"

"But—"

"Just follow my lead. Don't you want to win?"

She caught her lip between her teeth, torn between her competitive nature and her father's watching eyes.

Aang and then took her other hand and entwined their fingers. "Close your eyes," he said.

"Aang, I'm not sure I—"

He could see how much she really wanted to do this. "Don't you trust me?"

She looked at him, looked _into_ him, and her mouth curved slightly in a smile. "Of course," she said softly.

"Then just follow my lead."

With her eyes closed, dancing with Aang became something altogether…_different_.

Maybe it had something to do with the music, the tempo that was a bit slower than anything they had yet danced to. It wasn't an intimately slow pace, it didn't call for him to hold her against him, but neither did it have the fast paced and thrilling momentum from their date. She could enjoy it on a different level, now that she wasn't being tossed around as much.

The drums vibrated the floor beneath her feet, the high, trilling sound of the horns rang in her ears and yet she could still hear Aang humming along with the tune.

Deliberately, she blocked out all thoughts of anyone else at all being in the room with them and really let herself relax in the simple, physical pleasure of Aang's hands guiding her through the dance. Her body flowed with the music in an utter lack of self-consciousness.

Perhaps it was because he led a bit more strongly to compensate for her lack of sight. Perhaps it was that, with her eyes closed and her mind floating in elation from the day's events, she had relaxed some inner part of herself that had been on guard for so long she hadn't even realized it. For the first time since—since she didn't even know how long, whether she'd been holding part of herself aside from the death of her mother, when she'd had to step up and be woman of the house, or whether it was due to living her whole life under the shadow of war…

Or, maybe, it was all due to the confidence of the young man guiding her through the steps, moving her feet along with his—maybe it was that, after all this time, she'd finally found someone who she could let down all her defenses with. Someone she could trust more completely than she even trusted herself. Aang would never let her fall. She could lean on him. She could, finally, lay aside the mantle of duty that she'd worn for so long and _just let go_. She could be, without reservations or fears of judgment, _Katara_, utterly herself. Young, and in love and _happy_.

The music picked up, a staccato drumbeat that she realized now had slowly been speeding up the whole time. Concentrating on Aang's cues, she had no more thought for introspection but the feeling of contentment, of ultimate safety, that remained. At the end of the dance, she found herself lifted into his arms and spun around, laughter surprised out of her. When he held her close she leaned in and, eyes still closed, kissed him in front of everyone.

He led her, blushing, off of the dance floor to cheers and whistles, and then turned to grin at Zuko, who stood fuming nearby.

"Told you," he said, smugness evident in every line of his body.

Zuko snorted, still glaring, but the brightness in his eyes gave him away, and when he spoke there was no heat in his tone. "Yeah, well, I guess loosing to the Avatar isn't much of a loss, considering—"

The doors on the other side of the dance hall slammed open, the force of air sending candle flames flickering wildly. The Fire Sage gasped for breath, stumbled forward into a growing stillness, and then fell forward.

Aang caught him.

"The—the catacombs," the sage wheezed. Soot and burn marks streaked his clothing. Katara hurried forward to hold his other side. She and Aang lowered him gently to the floor. "Under…attack."

"It's Azula," Aang said. His face was grim. It was not a question.

The sage merely nodded. Zuko appeared with a glass of water, and helped the old man to take a drink.

Aang met Katara's eyes and between them, in an instant, flashed all of the things that they didn't have time to say. Tension winding tight to the breaking point.

"Stay here," Aang said, fully expecting and overriding her protest. "These people need protection, Katara," and in his eyes was a wordless plea that she not make a scene by arguing.

The sage, watching the two of them, said, "There is no one there. They attacked and ran. He will be in no danger, my lady."

It was this, and this only, that softened her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay," she said. And met Aang's eyes again. "Okay. But be careful."

He kissed her, quickly, and then he was gone.

Toph and Zuko went with him, leaving Sokka and Katara to organize the slowly panicking nobility. Of those who stayed, the warriors soon split off to guard all access points to the celebration hall and Katara ended up with Sokka in a narrow garden, watching orange flames dance against black smoke and a sunset sky.

She tried hard not to think about what he might be facing, but in her mind was the nightmare playing over and over again. Sokka's hand on her shoulder startled her, and she blinked up at him, realizing she'd been pacing in an increasingly tight circle.

"He'll be okay," Sokka said.

Katara blew out a shaky breath, unconvinced.

"He's stronger now."

"Sokka… I don't think it matters how strong he is. I don't think that the way I feel about this will ever change."

Her brother, who had faced a similar demon, squeezed her shoulder in comfort. "I understand. But you must know that this isn't—"

"Well, well, well."

Three words, in that same snide tone. Sokka's face tightened, his eyes going wide as he stared over Katara's shoulder.

She whirled around.

Azula lounged in the archway, smiling at them with bared teeth.

Unpredictable and deadly. Insane. Vivid in Katara's mind was Azula screaming and writhing in heavy chains, blue fire exploding from her mouth. Tears and snot streaking her face, the uneven and jagged cut of her hair.

The woman who stood before her now in simple black robes, yellow eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a snake's grin—this Azula was a far cry from the fractured, desperate princess whom Katara had beaten with Sozin's comet trailing across the sky like a bleeding star.

And yet in one critical aspect, the woman now was far more dangerous because she had nothing at all to lose, not even her own sanity. Dangerous like a snake, like a rat viper: even as it sunk its fangs deep into your flesh, it was also chewing at its own body. Full of venom and a mindless kind of malevolence.

These things she saw, reflected like the fire flickering in Azula's eyes.

Whatever the Firebender had been doing since her escape, finding inner balance had not been a part of it.

The golden eyes gleamed. Shiny white teeth bared in a feral smile of predatory anticipation. "Well, well, well," she said, breathy voice full of bitterness. "What have we here."

She remembered Zuko saying, _Azula always lies. _And Katara knew her to be unpredictable. The Firebender had the uncanny ability to strike at her enemy's most vulnerable points when it would not be expected at all.

Katara had learned this lesson about Azula very well.

Katara's heart thundered in her chest but her breathing was steady and deep and beneath the tension on the surface, beneath the shuddery feelings of shallow nervousness was a deep reservoir of calm, cold hatred.

She stepped in front of her brother, her eyes locked on Azula, and slid smoothly into the defensive opening stance of her art. Her whole being focused with deadly intent on the Firebender. The wound in her heart that had opened the night Aang fell, the night Azula had _killed_ him still bled freely. She remembered the fight with Zuko, remembered Azula's eyes shifting before she had violated everything the Agni Kai stood for and fired the lightning at Katara instead.

She would not give Azula a third chance to destroy someone she cared about.

"Sokka," she said, "stay behind me."

As much as it pained his warrior's pride, she knew he would obey her in this. He may not have been present for Azula's triumphant moments, but he was smart enough to know that as a non-bender he didn't stand a chance.

Azula's lips curled back in a snarl. "How sweet," she said. "You're trying to protect him." She spread her arms, long white fingers gesturing to the garden around them. "There is no water here—how do you expect to even fight me?"

Her world, so small, so focused. Steady heartbeat like a drum in her ears. Even breathing, smooth, like the tide that, even now, tugged at her bones. As a Waterbender her whole world had always been about the ebb and flow of power. This, here and now, was no different at all.

Katara's mouth twisted in a smile. She altered her position ever so slightly, palms flat and open, then twitched her fingers, beckoning.

_Come on. Give it to me_.

_I _dare_ you._

Her brother's voice, somewhere behind her. "Katara, I don't think it's a good idea to—"

Azula moved, quick as a striking snake, faster than Katara would have thought possible. Her arms swinging in a tight circle, then the outstretched hand and two fingers pointing at Katara like a death sentence. Katara had barely enough time to shift her feet and widen her stance. The lightning exploded from Azula's fingertips, a wide beam of crackling, deadly electricity. Blindingly bright. Behind her, Sokka cried out and she felt him grab her shoulders and try to pull her aside.

She stepped away from him, into the deadly blue energy that entered her body through her outstretched hand.

It became her whole world. Bright, behind her eyelids. Inside her blood. Her heartbeat, so loud in the silence. _Breathe. In, out_. Every nerve singing to life in the sudden flare of power heating the very blood in her veins.

No room for fear, for uncertainty. Open and accepting and _yielding_, like water parting before a rock, she became an open and willing vessel. She raised one arm, pointed her fingers upward. As if it was the easiest thing in the world, as if she'd done it a hundred times before, she sent the crackling flash of energy upward into the dusk sky.

Instantly, with no hesitation, no pause for reflection, no need to gather herself, her body flowed from defense to offense and she attacked the stunned and unbalanced Firebender.

Azula stared at her in horror, mouth gaping open. Katara had never felt such a clear intent of purpose before, never in her life fought with such a unified desire in her spirit. In a flowing spin, moving her body through the motions without regret for life lost, she pulled the water from every tree and plant in the garden and threw the flood at the Firebender.

Azula screamed when the water slammed into her, and it was the most beautiful sound Katara had every heard. Her heart clenched fiercely on this pleasure and she understood, for the first time, how a warrior could find joy and freedom on the field of battle.

No one in the history of the world had ever hated another the way she hated Azula. She had no intention of giving any mercy, no intention to hold back _anything_.

Before she reached Azula, where the Firebender struggled to her feet, the night exploded all around Katara in an inferno of heat and flames.

* * *

A/N: _What? No updates for months and then she gives us a _cliffhanger?

Eeep. ^^' Um, pretty much, yeah.

I have never even considered _not_ continuing this story. It's too important to me on a personal level for that to be an option. However, I want to thank all of you for your patience with how long it has taken me to update these last few chapters. Real life does get in the, but also: I suffer from the lack of self-esteem that many writers do where their work is concerned. I want everything to be perfect, as close to what is in my head as is possible, and so I cannot express to you all just how wonderful you are in loving this story of mine : )

I am very happy that you loved the last chapter so much. I still have a lot of editing—I feel like the bones are showing through in a few places—and, contradictorily, it is one of the most important chapters to me because it is the real beginning of Aang and Katara's relationship.

The next chapter is 'Friction'.

You are thinking, Ahhhh! Don't take years to update _again! _^^' Um, I can say that I respond well to positive pressure, and that the next chapter is completely outlined and about 1/3 written. It has some fun Kataang moments that I'm very interested to see what you think of, and also the beginnings of a Maitara friendship that surprised me.

See you in a few weeks!


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